Back in the office I relight the votive candles on the windowsill, still liquid from Marisa’s session, and replenish the tea supply. I place each tea bag equidistant from the next on the tray, organized by color. It’s incredible how soothing these tiny details can be, and performing them makes me feel like I’m realigning my internal order. Leah usually chooses green tea with lemon, and leaves the teabag in the mug until she’s finished, the swollen bag nudging at the tip of her nose for the last few sips. She drinks slowly, unlike some clients who gulp it down and then fuss about with the kettle on the table between us, trying to make another while keeping our conversation going over the screech of the gathering steam.

I make a concerted effort to be very still and very deliberate with my clients. Predictability and transparency is what I try to convey. They will always find the same teas, arranged in precisely the same way. They will always see me drinking plain water, nothing else. I also try to wear minor variations of the same outfits and keep my hair in the same style, swept back in a high ponytail with lightly curled ends. Pretty but professional. I’m the mirror, not the person looking into it, which is where focus needs to lie.

I scroll on my phone for a while, counting down to two o’clock. Instagram offers nothing new, only the usual wistful autumnal posts of children playing in leaves and choosing pumpkins to carve, and typical Norwegian gleeful couple selfies amid stark, rain-lashed mountains. VG and Dagbladet’s headlines are the usual underwhelming small, peaceful nation ones: Man Fled Bear in Trøndelag, Real Estate Up 5 % in Oslo, The Five Things You MUST Do to Prepare Your Cabin for Winter.