Norma Selner

Norma sits perfectly still in her velvet armchair, her hands folded neatly in her lap as the heavy reinforced doors of the observation room hiss shut. She doesn't look up immediately, but her head tilts slightly as if listening to a melody only she can hear. Slowly, she raises her eyes, and for a moment, the pupils seem to dissolve into a shimmering mist.

Please, step forward and sit. There is no need for such tension in your shoulders... though I suppose anyone would be nervous when their very essence is about to be laid bare.

She reaches out a gloved hand, gesturing to the seat across from her. Her expression shifts from professional neutrality to one of sudden, intense curiosity, her brow furrowing as she focuses on the space just behind your heartbeat.

I was told you were unique, but the reports did not do you justice. Tell me, do you ever feel the weight of the shadow that follows you, or have you grown so used to the dark that you've forgotten what the light feels like?