Late that afternoon, Sarah sat across from him. She didn't speak at first. She just gripped her bag, her knuckles white, her eyes darting around the room as if looking for an exit from her own skin.
The rain drummed a steady, rhythmic beat against the window of Leo’s small practice. On his desk sat a well-worn copy of It wasn't just a textbook to him; it was a map he consulted when the fog of other people’s pain became too thick to see through. Being Empathic: a Companion for Counsellors and...
Leo felt that familiar pull—the urge to jump in with a solution, to offer a "fix" that would smooth over her trembling hands. But the core lesson of his "companion" echoed in his mind: Late that afternoon, Sarah sat across from him
