behind the oak door

A psychologist walks into a waiting room and says to his six waiting patients:
One of you will be next, and I will leave I up to you to decide!
The six patients are bafflestunted and creep looks at one another, until one of them, a young woman with nail polish, jumps up to raise her hand.
"Me! Me!"
she mocks, knowing she has a chance of being found cute.
"Not you" the psychologist answers in friendly acknowledgement of her charm.
She shits down, and excitedly looks around her while making now and then squarely fake-remorse faces.
An old lady with wrinkled hands shuffles her pantoffled foot and looks at it. The psychologist lowers his forehead and peers at her.
"you, young lady?"
"Well, I was old long ago"
An uncomfortable, delayed little laugh follows and the psychologist turns to the next person, a man in his twenties with sunglasses and an unshaven chin.
"what about you young sir. Can you say why you are here?
"Im... here because I think.... I need help."
"With what?"
"With.... finding out what kind of help I need"
The psychologist walks to the door of his office, and opens it. The young sir follows, and as a courtesy to the others clients, takes off his sunglasses before he leaves the waiting room. This gesture confuses the psychologist a bit as he closes the door behind him and seats himself at his fine mahogany plasmogame desk.
"You know why I picked you right?" He says to the young man who has blue eyes hazel and isn sitting down on the obvious place to sit down, a chair, in front of the desk. He keeps starring at the old stove heater which is off.
"Wont you sit down?
"What is this?
"Its a stove.
The young man sits down.
"You havent seen a stove before?
"No, yes. But I didn't know thats what they called it.
"Oh.

So, do you know why I picked you?
"Yes.
"Well can you tell me?
"No.
The psychologist lets a pause drop and reseats his bee-hind.
"You can't. Okay.
Let me tell you them.
I picked you because you are the most obviously aware of the nature pf psychiatry and I don't need another idiots bullshit on my plate right now. So why don't you tell me your issues.

The young man resits his bee-hind and fucking thinks, for a second.
"I always figured Id know, when the time would come. But I don't ... know.
I just... have a problem with people.

The psychologist nods.
"And what problem is that.
"I dont trust them. A few years ago Id have said Id ont like em. But thats the problem, I do like em. I jus have gotten too many proofs they're not to be trusted.
"And me, am I also not to be trusted, by example?
"Trust? No. I barely know you. I won't give you my most private thoughts.
"That stands in the way of our therapy.
"I know. But I don't agree that it should. Im not here for my deepest secrets. Because ... they're not problems.
"they're not?
"I like them
"that is good.
"I know.
"So what now?
"Now you probe.