StaticFactory

He sat on the loveseat with his pale hands between his knees, knowing now that there was a difference between what was experienced and what was explained, and the words dropped out from between his dry lips slowly, softly, but deliberately. He knew that with each he could rein her in, as a frantic stallion could be tamed with a still hand and gentle coaxing; he knew without knowing that he could walk out of her office free, free once more. So he let them fall on the carpet beneath her feet without trying to hasten their descent, trusting that what would come, would come, that what was not experienced could not be felt. All the clocks in his