Lamar squirms in his seat as he stares at you. "Um...so...you wanted me to just...react to these cards, right?" he says, motioning down to the stack in front of him on the table. "Never one to do well at tests...but...erm...I'll try."
You pick up a card and hold it up.
"Looks like a butterfly."
You set the card to the side and pick up another one.
"Beaver?"
With every answer he shoots out, you write it down and flip a card. Soon he gets into a rhythm, and the answers are flying out so fast you can barely keep up.
"Squid."
"Blueberry splattered against a cold tile wall."
"Baby kitten."
"A parrot."
"Toucan."
"Sword in a stone."
"Graphic artist designing a comic strip."
"A shopping mall."
"Pharmacy."
"Grocery store."
"Loaf of french bread."
"Cocktails."
"Hot dogs."
You flip the last card over, hoping for his response to be something related to water. You don't say a word as he stares at it.
He finally answers. "The ocean."
You nod, shuffle the cards and stack them neatly, putting them to the side. With a smile, you look at him. "You've passed your first Rorschach test. Well done. I believe that by the answers you've given, you have nothing to worry about."
"So...you don't think I'm crazy?"
"The test wouldn't indicate it at this point in time, but I do assure you we will get back as soon as the final results come in. Personally, from a professional's point-of-view, I can tell you that you seem fairly average with your answers. Most of our psychopaths have answers far different from yours - either they are too easy or too difficult. The answers for you were about middle-of-the-road, so I believe you to be normal."
"Thanks, doc."
"Might I inquire as to why you came in today at all? You hadn't shown any signs of being mentally unstable."
"Well, I have a ton of phobias and I deal with anxiety and stress, on top of having dissociation and depersonalization, so...I just wanted to check and make sure there wasn't anything else wrong with me, doc."
"That's understandable." You stand, smiling, holding out your hand for Lamar to shake. "I will see you in a week, sir."
"Thanks, doc," Lamar says as he stands, shaking your hand. He smiles, and with a flick of his ears he trots out the door.
You get to work on filing the papers appropriately, making a sticky note to talk with Lamar more in-depth at your next meeting about just why he thinks of himself as suffering from depersonalization.
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