Sara sat down and yawned, watching the clock with disinterest. "How long?" she asked, finally breaking her vow of silence.

The woman gave a careful and seemingly sincere explanation to Sara about how Sara only had to wait a few more minutes. Then she offered Sara a chocolate chip cookie.

The cookie was right next to Sara on the end table next to the chair. It had exactly 6 chocolate chips in it and was larger than the chocolate chips that most kids got at schools that she used to go to. She was alone now, and the solitude allowed Sara to notice the faint smell of cleanliness that filled the office. It smelled like freshly cleaned linen.

Suddenly there was a slight ‘snick’of a door opening. A man with glasses and a clip board walked into the room and seated himself in the red, leather chair opposite of Sara.

“Hello Sara. I’m Doctor Wolfwitz” he said, though he wasn’t dressed like a Doctor. He didn’t have a long white robe and instead sported a plaid shirt and loose fitting, business casual pants.

Having helped herself to a cookie earlier, Sara sniffed the air, then examined the doctor skeptically. "Hello," she muttered reluctantly.

The doctor raised an eyebrow.

“Let me guess. You don’t wanna be here do you?”

She craned her head to look him in the eye. "Good guess."

The Doctor put his paper clip board down. Then he shrugged his shoulders and gave a little laugh. It was a light chuckle.

"I don't really want to be here either." he said, and it came out like a kind of confession.

"What should we do about it?" He said. Sara caught him looking over at the clock that was tic-tic-ticking away.

"Sara's you're name right?" He said, and it came out rhetorically. "I mean, I'm supposed to talk to you for a full hour. And hour. That's a long time. I already had three kids to talk to before you. And one of them threw a 'snowball' at me. Do you know what a we call a 'snowball?' " he asked, and it came out like the work had some special significance that wasn't a medical term but perhaps a term spoken around the office as a joke.

Sara's gaze followed the doctor's eyes to the clock, then returned to the doctor himself. She felt like he was trying to trick her somehow, but... It was working, dammit. "What?" she asked.

The Doctor met Sara’s gaze with a deadpan, almost unnerving stare. Gone was the chuckle.

“I said, what should we do? We have all this time. People are expecting us to fill it.”

He put the clipboard down. Picked it back up. Then put it down again.

Sara frowns. Why are adults so dumb? This one seemed smarter - is he playing dumb to annoy her? "I mean, what do you call a snowball?"

Dr. Wolfwitz leaned forward and into Sara's personal space. He dropped his voice down a few octaves as he stared down at Sara from those glasses and spoke in a hushed tone.

"A snowball....is when a prisoner mixes piss...and shit...and blood" he said, eyes suddenly glowing with feverish excitement. The words piss, shit and blood were all emphasized. "...and then they roll it up into a ball. And they throw it at one of the staff..." He said.

Then just like that he leaned back into his chair and picked up the clip board. He stared down at it as if decided if he wanted to write something, clearly decided not to and put the clipboard back down again.

Sara was not intimidated by the looming, but a bit shocked by his words. Or maybe just his tone... It seemed almost as though she was back in a dream. Just in case, she looked around to see if there were any scary clowns or stuffed animals about. "That's gross," she muttered, cringing as she did so.

There was nothing that would indicate to Sara that this was a dream, but rather a strange encounter with an adult.

"I know." Dr. Wolfitz said. "That's what I thought." He adjusted his spectacles. "Do you mind if I make myself a drink. If we have to sit here a while.."

"Sure," Sara shrugged, before cringing again, unable to get the image out of her mind now. "You have to do it, huh. So what's the point?"

"So, why are you here? I mean, I know what your Mom says." the doctor said. "But I mean here. I can tell from your accent your not from LA. So what are you doing here."

Sara heard the clink of glass as the decanter poured out some strong smelling spirit.

Sara cringed at the smell. "We moved here from Canada," she informed him. "Because of her. She's in movies." There was no way to say that without sounding even slightly proud of that fact. But she tried. Who cares about mom's stupid movies? "I'm just so bored," she admitted.

Dr. Wolfwitz didn't anything one way or another about how he was feeling regarding what Sara said. It appeared he was just listening. There was a gentle 'clink' of the glass as he set the decanter down.

"Well, at least no one is throwing a snowball at you. That's a good thing. You think you'll do movies at some point? Just like Mom?" He asked. Then he sat down with the glass in his hand and crossed his legs.

"Nah..." Sara muttered. Somehow, she never thought of it. Not seriously. "It sounds boring. You just have to do what they tell you, right?"

The Doctor looked up at the ceiling for a moment, as if considering what Sara said and mulling over the theme of acting. Then he took a small sip of the apple juice-colored liquid in his glass. Sara could smell the strong spirits on his breath as he spoke:

“Yeah probably...maybe, I don’t know. People think we have all of the answers. I’m talking about doctors like me when I say that. But the reality is that we are more like people who fix your house or your plumbing. We try something different and hope it works. Then we try something else and if that doesn’t work we keep tinkering with combinations hoping we get it right. So, I guess I’ve had enough patients that are actors or have their kids in acting and I’ve heard enough of their stories to agree with you: it does sound boring. But each house is different and each person is different. And believe it or not a lot of actors and actresses are stuck in movies and they hate their jobs. Most people don’t think of that.”

"Do you hate your job?" Sara asked, scanning the room for nothing in particular.

"No." Dr. Wolfwitz said, almost defensively. "I just wish that I could actually talk to some of these people. You know? Cure them. Of all of the problems they have. I wish sometimes they would open up. That they would see me as someone who is trying to help. Maybe see me as trying to tinker them for the good instead of for the bad. But some people just won't let me in."

He took another sip from his glass.

"And there's nothing I can do about that. That's the hard part. No doctor can force someone to open up to them. And that goes double for a doctor like me who isn't doing any surgery."

Sara smirked at that last aside. "Yeah, I bet. But it's not like I'm sick, though. Am I?"

"I don't know. You don't seem sick. I could run a couple of tests. Actually, its more like you taking some paper tests and then me asking questions. But really, these tests aren't like math tests. They don't say one way or another a specific problem."

"They point towards certain directions." He took another sip of the foul smelling spirit. Sara saw his Adam's apple bob once as he swallowed.

"But everyone wants a specific diagnosis. They want 2+2 to equal 4. They want things to be simple. And people aren't simple."

"And kids aren't simple." He took one more sip.

"Do you think think kids are simple?" He asked, as if Sara might have a new, or hands-on knowledge.

"Some of them are," Sara muttered. She didn't really get what he meant, though. "I mean... either someone's crazy or not, right? Or..." she frowned, thinking. Somehow he got her curious.