She hated having to sit here. Just sitting and waiting, knowing that any minute he would come in and they would begin. His calmness might have been reassuring, but usually just served to underscore her own anxiety.
He would speak gently and pointedly. She would try to disappear, to mentally be somewhere else, but then he would tell her to look at him and she would be hurled back into the moment to face her shame. She knew her actions had hurt him, and blushed more deeply as he detailed exactly how she had let him down.
It would last for ages. Long after her tears had begun to flow freely, he would stop and tell her to rise. Then their positions would be reversed, and the chair wouod serve a new purpose- one that would start her crying yet again from a new kind of pain.