“Doc, I’m really feeling boxed in lately,” Ian said
“Tell me more, Ian,” Dr. Stein said.
“It’s like I’m flailing around in the dark, Doc,” Ian said. “I have no sense of what’s behind me. I can’t see what lies directly ahead. I can’t tell right from left, forward from backwards, down from up. I’m lost, Doc. I’m floundering.”
“Ian,” Dr. Stein said, “you do realize that you’re walking around with a large cardboard box covering your head and most of your upper body, don’t you?”
“You get me, doc,” Ian said, feeling a sense of relief at finally being understood. “That, metaphorically, is exactly what I feel like.”
“Ian, I’m not speaking metaphorically,” Dr. Stein said. “You literally have a large cardboard box over the top half of your body.”
Ian took his arms, which were poking out of holes on two adjacent sides of the cardboard box, and began frantically touching the outside of it.
Dr. Stein stood up, walked over to where Ian was standing, and said, “￼Stand still, son. I’m going to lift the box off of you.” Dr. Stein slowly and carefully remove the box from over Ian’s upper torso and head and put it aside.
Once it was removed, Ian blinked his eyes and looked around the room. “It’s a friggin’ miracle, Doc,” he said. “I can see with so much more clarity now.”
“Yes, I thought you might,” Dr. Stein said. He looked at his watch and said, “Time’s up for today, Ian. I’ll see you at this same time next week. And, Ian, take your box with you.”
Written for this week’s Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge. Photo credit: cottonbro on Pexels.com.