The Analyst

The Analysthe poured out his troubles to a sympathetic ear...I had the barrel of the gun in my mouth and my finger on the trigger when he appeared suddenly in the woods. He stopped in the clearing some 50 feet away and stared at me mutely. He was wearing a long brown overcoat and a brown woolen watch cap pulled down over his ears. It was still mild for November, but a long, soiled yellow muffler was wrapped around his neck and trailing down the front of his coat. A parcel wrapped in brown paper...