She almost winced at the word “shrink.” She had never liked that word, even if she understood it was much shorter and easier to say than “counseling psychologist.” Professional terms kept her at such a distance; she much preferred to be closer, more accessible, not merely an imposing figure behind a large desk. But she kept her opinion to herself, retaining her warm, welcoming expression.
“I’m a friend,” Psyche said simply. “One who prefers Botticelli to Bosch, as you might have guessed; I apologize if I accidentally bashed any of your favorite Northern artists!”
She nodded in agreement with Darla’s last statement, reaching into her purse for her phone. “She did. Though she hasn’t called or texted, so I’m going to assume that she’s not stuck in traffic somewhere.”
Taking another sip of her coffee, her eyes once again fell on the schedule. “Are you an art history major, Darla?”