For nearly the first twenty minutes of therapy, the only sound in Elijah’s office was the soft tickle of his fingers as they tapped across the keys of his laptop. The blinds of the office were opened, letting the stark shine of the midday sun pour through the slats, illuminating the room.
Urging Gabriella to break her nulling silence, Elijah asked softly, “How did you sleep? Grace says she gave you some medication to help with that.”
Gabriella made herself as small as she could, tucked into the oversized chair in Elijah’s office and covered her lap with the zig-zagged pillow once more. “I took it. It did help me sleep,” she said absently.
“Good.” Elijah nodded, arms crossed, his long fingers stretched in the shape of an ‘L” as they held his face. “Nightmares?”
“Not
