The decorated brass plate on the table was given to him by another client, a travel agent with long braids, after he helped her get over an ex-boyfriend. When he asked her to describe a memory that could represent their relationship, she told him how the boyfriend taught her to brush her teeth while listening to the radio. Brush from the beginning of a song until it ends, the boyfriend said; that’s how you’ll know you have brushed for three minutes, as you should. And then she cried.

The colorful earthenware mug he holds in his hands was given to him by a client whose name he has forgotten, an artist who said, you’ve helped me a lot, and asked if she could leave him a small gift, and stood for a second at the door on her way out and whispered, my husband beats me, and left and did not return.

The blue towel with which he dries his hands was given to him by an obsessive-compulsive client who used to wash every part of her body with its own towel, sixteen towels per shower, and then had to wash each towel separately six times and then wash her hands six times in the sink. The sight of an errant air bubble in the hand soap bottle would compel her to wrap the bottle in a brown bag and toss it in the trash and run to the store to buy another.

In a kitchen cabinet stands an old half-empty bottle of brandy given to him years ago by a client who later killed himself like this: he sat in the empty bathtub and cut his left wrist with a butcher knife. Then he tried to slash his right wrist but failed. He didn’t give up. He put the knife between his knees and sawed his right wrist, up and down. On a rutted pizza box in the living room he had scribbled a will: Please cremate my body. Put my ashes in a trash can. Thank you.

By now, the psychologist believes he has solved most of the problems of daily existence. He lives on a quiet, shaded street. His neighbors are busy with their own lives. His apartment is pleasant. The refrigerator is full and hums with satisfaction. The psychologist does his clinical work judiciously, between ten in the morning and three in the afternoon, and he compensates for the lost income by teaching an evening class every semester at the local college.