Does Anyone Else Sit In That Swing

She seemed sleek and hypervigilant, like a well-toned velvet puma. I watched her from my corner of the room, wondering about her swing. Does anyone else ever sit in that swing? I asked her. An ordinary question that challenged her somehow. I watched her eyes turn yellow. Black slits in the middle became wider. A few seconds before I might have wandered, but now I was frightened into staying in my regular spot. You may lie down on the couch and close your eyes, the therapist said. Her voice had a melodic tone I did not recognize. She coaxed me further, so I spread out, prone on her ugly floral couch. You may use a pillow, she suggested. I did not want one, but my hands grabbed one up. You may close your eyes, she purred. As my eyes were closing I noticed She had begun to head toward me No longer a woman, a puma. I closed my eyes anyway. For she had me in her power.