From an outside perspective.

Inspired by Databastard's story, Absolute Corruption

Dr. Shila MacIntyre finished her lunch at her favorite café near her office. It was the perfect spot, somehow able to remain a small, privately owned business in the middle of a bustling metropolitan downtown. Of course, the prices were high, but Dr. McIntyre could afford them. She fit right in with the other professionals, in her gray suit with a colorful, maroon blouse under it, sensible flats, and brown hair tied up into a bun. She thought of herself as a decent looking woman, though perhaps on the plain side. No curves to speak of, average in height, maybe a few years past what she thought of as her prime. But looks weren't everything. She was successful, took pleasure in helping people, and had a loving boyfriend she was hoping to marry someday. Overall, she was content with her life.

She splurged a little today and took the elevator back up to her office rather than taking the stairs. She felt a little bit naughty, as if she was cheating on her diet plan. She liked that.

Her waiting room was nearly empty, when she got back. Just her receptionist and her next patient, John Doe. John was long term patient of hers and suffered from a number of different social problems, such as a strange mix of social anxiety, and a sort of **** impatience. He was twitching, nervously, heel tapping on the short, dense, green carpet, doubled over like he had just gone for a long run. He turned when he heard the door and stood as if to approach her.

"Just a minute, John," Dr. MacIntyre said with a palm raised. "Let me get settled, and I'll have Lynn call you in. Your appointment isn't for another 10 minutes, anyway." In truth, she could have let him in right away. All she had to do was put her bag down and pull out her notepad. But this was part of the treatment. He had to learn to be conscious of others.

John screwed up his face in frustration, but sat down without saying a word.