Signal

I had begun to google the therapist reflexively whenever I was bored on the gallery reception. It was three weeks into my therapy, and she had posted a review for the first time in two years, of a device for relieving facial stress. The only previous hit was a review of a candle on Amazon, which she had also written using her full, unusual name: this candle did not match the seller’s description. It seemed unprofessional to review something for free so publicly when she charged so much for withholding her opinion in private. I didn’t know what facial stress was and didn’t get a chance to find out then and there because Vaughn, the gallery manager, came down from his little perch. Sidra! he said, as if he didn’t see me every week, the same two and half days that I could afford to work there. My housemate Meike had the job the rest of the week while I worked the front desk of a hotel and tutored rich children. Vaughn was wearing a royal blue suit with red triangles that made my peripheral vision flare. On the laptop, I enlarged the browser window showing a blog with the…

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Signal

Updated: December 17, 2021 — 9:26 am