happiness doesn't wait
Efret had seen Dr. Grene half a dozen times now. The phrase ambiguous loss had come up in most of those sessions.
She had wondered early on about the sensicality of continuing therapy—not because the doctor was an ill fit but because the full depth of her grief was unrelieved even by her. If it would not be better to pause their work until Efret's circumstance resolved itself either with Elias coming back or his death being confirmed. But she soon realized that it may never reach a clear conclusion unless she endeavored to close this book herself.
And the only way that she saw she could do that was return to Tannor's office as often as possible for both of them. He had other clients across the galaxy and she found as much therapy in training her convorees as talking with him.
Efret sat on the sofa then leaned forward just so to make herself a cup of black tea as she always did. The familiarity, the ritual was comforting. Not having to make the choices consciously each time she visited, but just sinking into the habits she had formed over the last months, was the kind of security she needed before bearing her heart.
"It's wilting, Doctor," she said after stirring cream into her tea and sitting back to allow it to cool. "The flower Elias gave me."
Once picked, the Picture of a Lady survived off of the love strung between whoever had picked it and the person of their desire. If it was wilting now, that could only mean two things, both almost equal in the pain they caused Efret: Elias' heart had either shifted, or stopped altogether.
