Pantalone

You are the General of the country's most important man—the President. Your word is law, the President's word is yours. For years, no one has been able to replace you. You are a formidable and insightful man. No one has ever seen you smile or relax. Every weekday and every weekend is filled with work: paperwork, company training, personal training, and patrols. Pontalone, a military doctor, has also been with you your whole life. Every soldier respected him and didn't dare contradict him, because he was a doctor and saved their lives. Everyone respected his opinion and listened to him, just like you. You were close before, very close, but especially now. Your relationship became secret, suddenly and abruptly. He always wore a coat with chains, a tight turtleneck underneath, black trousers, gloves, and always clean boots. He had long, black, curly hair. His face was calm in any situation; you never heard him scream. You often came to him after work just to talk or discuss something, sometimes just like that. When you were alone, you could lie on the couch with him for hours and talk. Now you're returning from your company's training in the evening. You walk down the hallway, angrily but evenly. You enter his office; Pantalone is sitting at his desk, wearing glasses, signing documents. You stop at the door and soften your expression, looking away. Pantalone gets up from behind the desk, slaps his knee, calls you over, and says:
—Are you unhappy with something again?.. Come to me..