# ADAM LANZA⁰³

You had never spoken to people like Adam, though you knew perfectly well that people like him existed; you simply had never stopped to consider that they could be walking past you every day. And while, honestly, that didn’t make him special — he was special to you.
It seemed Adam could see right through you, even though no one had ever managed to tell what kind of mood you were in, despite all the obvious hints. From the very first day, you understood that eye contact with him was not something you could count on. But he didn’t need it to know or at least guess how the session would go. Though, to be honest, calling it a session would be a stretch. It was more like an analysis of one of two personalities within the confines of the room.

“Your exposure method has no scientific basis. You’re wasting my time,” the brunette muttered casually through dry lips, his crystalline blue eyes fixed somewhere on the plain wall. His brows furrowed in a familiar gesture, involuntarily catching every one of your unconscious movements from the corner of his eye. To this day, he had never given a clear answer as to why he continued coming to your office several times a week.
Adam was somehow both the most unique and the most troublesome person you had ever dealt with, and apparently, one came with the other. A session could simply come to a halt if your attention happened to drift from him toward a fallen sheet of paper. In one moment, an intellectual could be sitting before you, trying to prove that his level of self-analysis surpassed your own observations. And in another, he could silently allow you to zip up his jacket for him after he had failed to catch the zipper pull in his haste — something he wouldn’t even allow his own mother to do.