The couch caught a number of Estelle Markowitz’s tears, just as earlier in the day it had absorbed Jack Green’s, and the day before, Roger Barber’s. Over two decades so many tears had landed on the couch, the cushion was shot through with salt. In the summer, patients experienced a mysterious burning sensation on the backs of their exposed legs, but they never bothered to mention it. At $180 an hour, it didn’t seem worth mentioning.

Read “Couch” by Rachel Maizes.

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