Sara: It's my birthday.
Doctor Fauser: Happy birthday! We're almost done with the session. I'm curious why you didn't mention this before?
S: Probably because I don't like thinking about what a shitty birthday this is.
DF: Yes? And why is that?
S: Well, let's see. The first thing I did when I woke up was cry. Birthdays totally suck, especially because it commemorates the day I was born.
DF: And why is that so bad.
S: Because I wish I was never born.
DF: What do you mean by that?
S: Don't worry. I don't want to kill myself. It's just . . . Life really sucks sometimes. And it's 6:00, and still no one has said happy birthday to me, besides you, but you're my analyst so that doesn't count.
DF: People didn't even say happy birthday on Facebook?
DF: What's so funny?
S: I just don't picture you on Facebook. With pictures tagged of you drinking out of funnels. In one of your nice suits.
DF: Don't look for me on there. You will find no such pictures. I never drink like that with a good suit on.
S: (Laughs again)
DF: But surely someone said happy birthday on Facebook?
S: Yes, but that doesn't count. Nobody cares enough to go beyond that, and those people are hardly friends anyways. And, did you know that I told my friend that this is exactly how my birthday would go? That I'd wake up and cry and no one would give a shit that it's my birthday?
DF: That's what we call a self-fulfill . . .
S: (cutting him off) Self-fulfilling prophecy, I know.
DF: I'm impressed. Do you think you do that often?
S: What's that?
DF: Set the stage for your own disappointment and eventual sadness?
S: Maybe. Probably. What do you think?
DF: I think that's something we'll have to explore next week. Our time is up.
S: Okay. Thanks. See you again next week.
As Sara and Doctor Fauser stand up, she checks her phone.
DF: I'm willing to bet you missed some calls. Or texts?
S: Yeah. A few, actually.
DF: You see!
S: Yeah. See you next week.
Sara smiles, turns away and opens the door.
DF: Yes you will. Oh, and Sara?
DF: I'm glad you were born.