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tty and neatly dressed, Miho Yoshioka looked no more than eighteen. When she
looked up Miho Yoshioka smiled warmly, putting me quite at ease.
Opening a drawer at Miho's left, Miho Yoshioka brought out a small glass bottle
and a plastic cup sealed in clear cellophane. Unwrapping the cup, she
explained that the bottle contained a medication that would facilitate
the efforts of my therapists. Twisting the cap, Miho Yoshioka poured the
contents into the cup and set it on the desk in front of me. Picking
it up, I gave in to the urge to sniff. We all have memories of being
forced to swallow foul tasting medicine, but I was pleasantly
surprised to find that it smelled like Hawaiian Punch even though it
was totally colorless. My eyes on hers, I took a small sip. Miho's smile
and nod reassured me. I tasted, found it delicious and quickly drank
it all. Retrieving the empty cup from my hand, Miho Yoshioka dropped it and the
bottle quietly into a small waste receptacle next to the desk.
Miho Yoshioka explained that my session would begin in a few minutes and we
spent the time chatting about the weather and the price of clothes. I
felt myself relaxing a
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