The Fray Theory: Resonance by Nelou Keramati Page A

color, and a thin strip of black stone is offset from
the ivory walls. The entire space is of a neutral color scheme.
    She wonders if it’s
intentional.
    “Thank you for waiting,” a
sophisticated African-American gentleman enters.
    Neve’s eyes are immediately
drawn to his graying curls and silver eyes. In his beige tweed vest, white shirt,
and brown pants, he is reminiscent of a time long passed… when clothes were
less about identity and more about character.
    It’s odd, meeting him. It
is rousing a deep sense of nostalgia. But for what?
    A generation she never
belonged to?
    “Hi,” Neve rises to
receive Galen’s hand. “Thank you so much for seeing me on such short notice.”
    “It’s my pleasure. Any
friend of Dylan’s is family,” Galen smiles as he shakes Neve’s hand. “Please,”
he indicates the loveseat, and then takes his own seat in an off-white tufted
armchair across from her.
    Neve retakes her seat and crosses
her hands on her lap. There is just something about Galen that makes her
compelled to impress him.
    “I’ve looked over your file,”
Galen crosses his legs as he leans back in his chair. “It’s been a while since
you sought out therapy.”
    “Honestly, I sort of lost
faith in the whole process after awhile,” Neve admits. “No offense.”
    “It’s not for everyone,”
he puts on his frameless glasses and jots something down on his notepad.
    Neve cranes her neck up to
sneak a glance at what he’s scribbling. What could he have possibly deduced
about her already?
    “So what brings you in
today?” he looks up.
    “Right,” Neve leans back,
her posture stiff. “I know Dylan made it sound like an emergency, but it isn’t.”
She drops her gaze and starts to scrape at her black nail polish. “The worst is
already over.”
    “Which was… what?”
    And it’s like the words have
wrapped around her tongue, holding on for dear life. “M—my best friend killed
himself. A week ago.”
    “My condolences,” he jots
something else down.
    Elliot’s somber words flood
Neve’s mind, and the depth of his despair finally dawns on her.
    Is this what you get when
you finally summon the courage to seek out your last resort?
    My condolences ?
    “Suicide is perhaps one of
the most difficult issues to deal with,” Galen says without taking his eyes off
his notepad. “Even the thought of ending one’s life is unfathomable for most people,
which isn’t surprising given that death is the most universal fear known to man.”
    “Right. Of course.”
    “What do you fear
about it?” he stops writing and looks up at her. His gaze is so deep and
inquisitive, it makes Neve feel like she’s curled up at the base of a test tube.
    “About death?” she asks.
    “Is it the pain? The fear
of the unknown? Leaving everything behind?”
    Neve ponders it. “I guess
for me it’s about… time? Or lack thereof, I should say.”
    Galen’s unblinking stare prompts
her to go on.
    “It scares me that one day
I won’t exist anymore,” she says. “I keep imagining myself on my deathbed, all
alone, with only a few seconds left. And it terrifies me that once I’m gone, I
won’t even be able to know that I used to exist.”
    “And how do you cope with
these thoughts?”
    “I don’t, I guess. It doesn’t matter how many times I think I’ve come
to terms with it… after a while the thought creeps back and pounces on me like
a cheap jump-scare.”
    He laughs. “An interesting way of
putting it.”
    “Just to clarify, it isn’t my mortality
I’m concerned about. I just need to come to terms with my friend’s suicide.”
    “Yes. Of course,” he nods
to himself. “Was there a note?” he glances at Neve over the rim of his glasses.
    “No,” she shakes her head,
and watches him jot something else down. “Does that mean anything?”
    Galen raises his head slightly,
but his eyes remain glued to what he’s writing. “There’s no formula, I’m
afraid. Everyone is different in how they