“Sometimes I wish we’d never met,”  I say,

 wincing as I heard myself say “I wish”.

“I saw you wince,” small voice says. “As I said,

you’re making progress.”

“I’m sick of making progress,” I say. “I liked it better

when I didn’t hang onto my every word.”

“Hmm,” small voice says.

“That’s what you always say,” I mutter. “You’re 

making me self-conscious.”

“Isn’t that the idea?” small voice says.

“What?” I say.

“To become the conscious self 

you were born to be,” small voice says.

I sigh. “I liked it better when I was born to be wild,” 

“I know,” small voice says. “That’s why I’m here.”

“You always have to have the last word,” I say.

Small voice grins but says nothing.

 The silence lengthens.

Small voice smiles.

I wince once more.

                                                                                                           JDG