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Description
It was morning. The sun was already high in the sky. It really was a lovely day. I felt like being outdoors, but today I had been told my client needed to be indoors. When I met him, I could see why.
   He was weak. His eyes were halfway shut, and had no life in them. The boy, age 16, barely moved. He was only skin and bones. There was virtually no body fat visible on him. My stomach clenched at the sight of him. This wasn't right.
   "Hello, Michael."
   The boy looked up at me. There was a certain numbness in his eyes, as if he felt nothing. "Hello." His voice was cool like steel.
   "Do you know who I am? Your therapist contacted me. She thought it might be good for you to talk to an outsider."
   "She told me. You a shrink?"
   "No, I simply make a living out of conversing with people, and I thought I'd give you a try."
   Michael smiled wryly. "Sure, why not? They won't let me leave this place anyway, so I might as well pass the time with you." His voice was low and I could tell he had to struggle to breathe. Such a young boy…
   "So this is a clinic for eating disorders. I understand you have been diagnosed with anorexia nervosa."
   He shook his head. "I'm fine. I don't need to be here."
   "From the looks of it, you do. You don't seem well."
   "Look, if you're here to tell me to "get better", then you can just leave. I'm sick of people telling me what to do."
   "All right, I won't. I'm just worried about you."
   "Yeah, that's what they all say."
   "You don't think it's true?"
   "Maybe. Or maybe they just want to control me. They don't realize that I need control over my own life."
   "Is this why you're refusing to eat? To gain control?"
   Michael didn't answer.
   "Okay. So, what do you want to talk about?"
   "How about my brother who stopped visiting? He's supposed to be watching over me, isn't he? Being my big brother, I thought he would care. I guess I was wrong. He hasn't stopped by in over two months."
   "Perhaps he finds it too painful to see you."
   "Perhaps he doesn't give a damn about me."
   "I don't think that's true."
   "You don't know him. I do. At least I thought I did. I thought he'd be there for me, but I'm pretty sure he's ashamed of me."
   "Ashamed because of the anorexia?"
   "I'm not anorexic!"
   "Dr Florence says you are."
   "She's wrong. I just want to look good. Doesn't mean I have an eating disorder."
   Look good. This thin, emaciated boy was a sore in the heart to watch. I didn't quite understand his way of thinking. When I asked him about the people around him, he spoke with bitterness in his fragile voice. Not only had his brother stopped visiting, but he had lost touch with a number of friends. Only his parents visited regularly. He seemed to be a very lonely person.

Michael closed his eyes and put one hand on the side of his bed. He look like he was trying to steady himself.
   "Michael, are you all right?" I thought he was about to faint.
   "I'm fine. But…"
   "Yes?"
   "Never mind."
   I tried to keep a conversation with him, but he was so full of fury that he barely responded to my questions. He was angry at his friends for leaving him, his family for not supporting him, and the clinic for keeping him a prisoner, as he called it. I got the feeling he was angry at his eating disorder as well, though he would not admit that he had one. I wondered if he regarded himself as healthy, or if he simply wouldn't admit the disease to anyone else.

"Our hour is up, now. Is there anything I can do for you?"
   "Yeah."
   "Tell me."
   "Close the door on your way out. I want no more visitors."

Dr Florence met me on my way out. "He doesn't want any more visitors today," I said. She nodded.
   "Don't worry. Michael is at a bad place, but here, he can get better. We'll look after him."
   "Thank you for letting me see him," I said aloud.
Make sure you do, I thought inside.

Description
It was morning. The sun was already high in the sky. It really was a lovely day. I felt like being outdoors, but today I had been told my client needed to be indoors. When I met him, I could see why.
   He was weak. His eyes were halfway shut, and had no life in them. The boy, age 16, barely moved. He was only skin and bones. There was virtually no body fat visible on him. My stomach clenched at the sight of him. This wasn't right.
   "Hello, Michael."
   The boy looked up at me. There was a certain numbness in his eyes, as if he felt nothing. "Hello." His voice was cool like steel.
   "Do you know who I am? Your therapist contacted me. She thought it might be good for you to talk to an outsider."
   "She told me. You a shrink?"
   "No, I simply make a living out of conversing with people, and I thought I'd give you a try."
   Michael smiled wryly. "Sure, why not? They won't let me leave this place anyway, so I might as well pass the time with you." His voice was low and I could tell he had to struggle to breathe. Such a young boy…
   "So this is a clinic for eating disorders. I understand you have been diagnosed with anorexia nervosa."
   He shook his head. "I'm fine. I don't need to be here."
   "From the looks of it, you do. You don't seem well."
   "Look, if you're here to tell me to "get better", then you can just leave. I'm sick of people telling me what to do."
   "All right, I won't. I'm just worried about you."
   "Yeah, that's what they all say."
   "You don't think it's true?"
   "Maybe. Or maybe they just want to control me. They don't realize that I need control over my own life."
   "Is this why you're refusing to eat? To gain control?"
   Michael didn't answer.
   "Okay. So, what do you want to talk about?"
   "How about my brother who stopped visiting? He's supposed to be watching over me, isn't he? Being my big brother, I thought he would care. I guess I was wrong. He hasn't stopped by in over two months."
   "Perhaps he finds it too painful to see you."
   "Perhaps he doesn't give a damn about me."
   "I don't think that's true."
   "You don't know him. I do. At least I thought I did. I thought he'd be there for me, but I'm pretty sure he's ashamed of me."
   "Ashamed because of the anorexia?"
   "I'm not anorexic!"
   "Dr Florence says you are."
   "She's wrong. I just want to look good. Doesn't mean I have an eating disorder."
   Look good. This thin, emaciated boy was a sore in the heart to watch. I didn't quite understand his way of thinking. When I asked him about the people around him, he spoke with bitterness in his fragile voice. Not only had his brother stopped visiting, but he had lost touch with a number of friends. Only his parents visited regularly. He seemed to be a very lonely person.

Michael closed his eyes and put one hand on the side of his bed. He look like he was trying to steady himself.
   "Michael, are you all right?" I thought he was about to faint.
   "I'm fine. But…"
   "Yes?"
   "Never mind."
   I tried to keep a conversation with him, but he was so full of fury that he barely responded to my questions. He was angry at his friends for leaving him, his family for not supporting him, and the clinic for keeping him a prisoner, as he called it. I got the feeling he was angry at his eating disorder as well, though he would not admit that he had one. I wondered if he regarded himself as healthy, or if he simply wouldn't admit the disease to anyone else.

"Our hour is up, now. Is there anything I can do for you?"
   "Yeah."
   "Tell me."
   "Close the door on your way out. I want no more visitors."

Dr Florence met me on my way out. "He doesn't want any more visitors today," I said. She nodded.
   "Don't worry. Michael is at a bad place, but here, he can get better. We'll look after him."
   "Thank you for letting me see him," I said aloud.
Make sure you do, I thought inside.