Cindy stared at the two strangers sitting across from her in the doctor's waiting room. Psychos? Loonies? Who were these people? She tried to imagine, just by looking at them, why they were here, what their crimes against the world, against humanity, were, what had driven them to such desperation that they had come here to find salvation.

Were they together? Probably not. They sat next to each other but stared ahead, focussed on nothing, in limbo. Limbo. The waiting room of a shrink. What better metaphor?

The woman looked blank, plain. Her head was obviously full of nothing, of recipes and daytime tv. A bit overweight. And her makeup was a joke. Just a little bit, just enough to accentuate her good points, she said, but it looked like black crayon and rouge smeared across her face. Even her lipstick was too dark and not quite straight. Maybe that was why she had come to this pit, to ask the doctor to straighten her face, to help her paint it right. But this was only a doctor's office, not a place of miracles. Better try the church down the street.

from Cindy's Story