My unicorn got run over by a tractor

Duke had been putting this off since the moment they'd gotten back to Fandom. Maybe not always consciously -- he'd had a lot on his mind -- but every time he thought about it, he flinched away from the idea. From having to tell someone outside the situation about everything that had happened. From having to speak the words at all.

But he'd finished the last of the small repairs needed on his new sailboat this morning, and realized he could take it out on the water, away from his partners or the squirrels or even those damned teal deer, and he knew it was time. He needed to rip off the band aid. Get it over with.

He took the boat out to the mouth of the cove, dropped his anchor, and sat for a long moment, just bobbing up and down on the small waves.

Then he pulled out his phone and called his therapist.

[Duke going out on his boat is good to broadcast, but not the phone call or conversation, please! For said therapist mentioned in the post!]

Duke's regular therapy appointments tended to meander around the day of the week, but he'd managed to be in Linda's office pretty much weekly. And he was there today, slouched on her couch, wondering when this whole therapy process would feel less like he was auditioning for something.

At some point this would feel normal, right?

Right?

[for the doctor, natch, and likely some slowplay!]