“How would you describe yourself in one word?” It’s just one word she told herself, one simple uncomplicated word that would describe how she is feeling. One word that would sum up who she is as a person, define her, make her, and become her. She searched for days for that one word, hoping it would appear just as easily as a math equation or a physics problem came to her, but it never did. The average person would hear this question; maybe rattle it in their head for a couple of minutes and then quickly come up with a sufficient answer. But no not her she had to analyze and pick out every little detail of that simple eight word question. She was asked this a mere seven days ago by her therapist and was supposed to have it answered by their next session, which as she looked down at her watch was in exactly ten minutes.











Casey was observing her surroundings as she entered the waiting room. The place looked the same as it always did like a hospital, cold and unwelcome. As she sat down on the hard metal chairs she looked across from her and saw the same people that are always there at exactly 10:30 every Tuesday morning. There was the sobbing wife whose husband just left their “perfect” ten year marriage for another woman, the crying children who just lost a father, and lastly the old man who keeps to himself with his head down never meeting anyone eye to eye. Out of everyone there he interested her most. His silky gray hair and the way it flows with just the slightest movement. The constant mumbling that she could just make out if she just leaned a little closer. Sometimes it was a prayer, other times it seemed as though he was saying he was sorry. Sorry for what she asked herself, since the day she saw him she had wanted to know what haunts him so. Usually she could dismiss someone as easily as it takes her to solve a math equation, but this old man was different. There’s energy, a feeling about him she couldn’t shake off. It was if as though he made a mark on her and she was destined to figure him out.
“Casey? Casey Wheeler?” asked the old receptionist.
“Yes.”Casey replied
“It’s your turn.”She said
Every time the lady says “It’s your turn,” she gets this sense of dread that washes over her body like a blanket. She feels the lady is about to lock her up in a room and torture her. Stop it! She says to herself. This kind of obsessive thinking is what got her here in the first place. As she walked down to the hallway to take “her turn” she noticed the old man was walking behind her making a shuffling sound with his feet. He walks the same way he sits, with his head down mumbling. Before she opened the door to the doctor’s office she swore she heard him say to her “Matto “. Having no idea what he meant she went into the therapist’s office with continuous ringing of the word Matto in her head.
“Hello Casey! How are we today? What word did you pick out for yourself?” Casey told her she had no idea what word she was and saw the disappointment cascading on her therapists face. Her therapist then went into this long speech on something that held no interest to her. While the lady was talking all Casey could think about was that one word “Matto.”
When she finally got out of her appointment she went outside and saw the old man approaching his car. She called out to him “Excuse me! Excuse me sir can I talk to you?” And that’s when he looked up. In all her life she had never seen such exquisitely blue eyes. It took her breath away, not because of the color, but because of the way he looked at her with them. It was as if he could see through her.
“Si.” He replied
“What did you mean when you said the word Matto” she was by no means prepared for what her said next.
“Matto, it is your word. In Italian It means crazy.” Then with that he turned and walked away leaving her dumbfounded.