Barden was sitting in silence, legs crossed, notepad bobbing on his knee as his rooted foot bounced on the plush carpet. His pen—slipped between his fingers—was waving back and forth by his ear, whilst he observed Amy on his leather couch. He stopped moving his fingers and slid the pen into the binds of the pad. Amy, her head lowered towards the ground, wasn't moving. Her hands sat beside her, palms down on the cool leather. On closer inspection, her head was stirring from side to side, minimally, Dr. Barden hardly noticed it. Her legs were inert, not touching the floor below. After one more minute, Dr. Barden coughed. Amy looked up. For a fleeting second, he saw a vehemence in those bright, innocent eyes. As if interrupting her was a major inconvenience. He shook his head and grinned. "Amy, I'm Dr. Barden. You can call me Sam." "Hello." Amy half-smiled. Her eyes wandered, looking at the furniture in the room.
