TWELVE: This is Melodrama

THE WHITE CLOUDS in the heavens were smeared with a dirty pale color that it overcast grey shadows all over the town as if a storm is brewing.

The air was thirstily dry that day.

Meanwhile, somewhere across the grey suburbia, in a high-end apartment complex sitting in the heart of town, Isaac felt the slippery satin covering of the lush chair he slumped on—trying so hard not to make his gasps for air audible.

“So, what seems to be the problem, son,” a woman in her late-40s with dusty bobbed hair asked while tugging her white coat. She sat on a faux leather, filthy red recliner chair opposite where Isaac was slumped.

“I did not come here for therapy. I just need the prescription,” he replied, about to be anno