The Imaginary Man

Dr. Sarah Reynolds sat calmly across the table from her patient, Mark. The room was minimalistic, painted in soft, soothing colors meant to create a safe space for therapy. A clock ticked quietly in the background, marking the slow passage of time. Sarah's eyes were kind but focused, her notebook open on the table, ready to capture the details of their conversation.

Mark fidgeted in his chair, glancing nervously around the room. He was in his mid-thirties, with tousled brown hair and a face that showed signs of stress and lack of sleep. His hands rested on the table, occasionally tapping as he spoke.

"You don't understand, Dr. Reynolds," Mark said, his voice edged with frustration. "He's real. I've known him for years. He's my friend."

Sarah leaned forward slightly, maintaining a gentle tone. "Mark, we've talked about this before. The 'man' you see is a projection of your mind. Schizophrenia can create powerful illusions, but they aren't real."

Mark shook his head vehemently. "No, no, he's not a projection. He's... he's different. He's always there when I need him, and he's helped me...