"What are you here for, Dan?"

"M-my girlfriend. Her names Ty, she's on the missing plane. My friend, Phil, he made me come, I don't want to be here."

"Understood. Now, how do you feel?"

I glare, "You did not just ask that."

There was silence.

"Tell me how you feel, Dan."

"It's been a month. She hasn't been in my arms for a month. I just want her back, really. I don't know what I did wrong to deserve this. Phil says I'm in denial, because he's given up. He fucking gave up. He thinks Ty is dead. I know she's not dead. I know she's safe. I don't need a god damned therapist because I'm not crazy and I just," I bring my hands to my face, and bite my lip to hold back a sob. "I just want her home."

The therapist writes down something on a clipboard, nodding.

"Dan, have you ever considered the possibily that your girlfriend actually is dead?"

I don't respond. She waits.

"Dan?"

"No. She's not dead."

She shakes her head and continues to write.

"Have you watched the news recently, Dan?"

I've been avoiding the news, social media, everything. I didn't want to hear people talk to me about the flight, or have the news tell me something I definitely didn't want to hear. I shake my head.

The thereapist takes her phone out of her skirt pocket and pulls up a news article.

There, in bold letters, the words 'Flight 830 May Have Crashed, Not Yet Decided'.

And that's when I lose it.