There's nothing

In the seconds after I collapsed on my kitchen floor and was convinced I was dying, I thought two things: this really happens, that people collapse on their kitchen floor in response to a message, and: this seems like the perfect time to make an appointment with a psychologist.

“Here is a file for five patients,” she said after my intake interview.
Girl, you don't have to tell me, I thought, but I said, 'Yes, I know, sorry,' as I took the last tissue from the box and said 'sorry' again for using up the tissues.
“How do you start something like that?” I asked.
“I propose at the beginning.”