Snippet #1817942

Zola listened to Bernstein talk. More propaganda, more stories. Group therapy would never cease to annoy and amaze her. She sat back in her seat a bit, praying that he wouldn't call on her. She hated this- felt like third grade all over again. "I hate school," she mumbled under her breath, just as the doctor volunteered Ian as the first of the group to share their story and feelings. She grinned a bit as Ian reluctantly shared.

"Don't really know what I'm sharing... Since I really have no idea why I'm here. From what I'm told, I spontaneously became an alcoholic without even realizing it." Zola was happy she wasn't the only foreigner here. She gave Ian a quick nod, but remained quiet. She was craving McDonald's at the moment, or some salmon. Any real food would do right now.

"Well, that stinks doesn't it?" she commented softly. I wonder if it would be possible for him to choke on his hair? Or hang himself with it? It looks like a bunch of ropes. Her mind was a bit disorganized and off topic. She brushed her bangs away from her face and looked at the others cautiously, waiting for somebody else to say something, anything to get this over with.