"Will you not go to breakfast?" 

"Huh?" A young, dark brunette girl lay out upon a soft couch, only half aware of her surroundings. Coming to at the sound of the question, she peered, annoyed, at the man sitting in the armchair next to her. "Why'd you stop?" she asked the man. Only a moment earlier, the middle aged man, a Telepath and the hired Orphanage psychologist, had been engaging in a relaxation exercise, the sudden ceasing of which had left the girl in a daze.

"Because, Sara, breakfast is almost over," the psychologist said, jotting down a brief note on his pad. 

"Oh." Sara scowled, meaner than a girl her age had business scowling. "Nah. I had an apple when I woke up. Can't stand breakfast right before Gym; makes me want to vomit. Besides, lunch is right after."

"I see." The psychologist jotted down several more notes. 

"What do you write in that thing anyways?"

"Progress," the man replied, evading Sara's gaze. 

"Whatever." Sara rolled her eyes. Kicking off of the couch, she sprung to her feet. She shot a glance at the grandfather clock at the other end of the room and spat. "Almost time for gym," she said. 

"Do you feel that you're ready?" the psychologist inquired, now standing up as well. 

"Of course I'm ready." the girl pulled back from the doctor, bearing a glove-adorned fist as though prepared to fight the man if she had to. "I always feel better after Gym." Not breaking sight from the doctor, Sara picked up a worn out, hand-me-down Gym bag and slung it over her shoulder. "If you're not going to help me, stay out of my head." Still brandishing her fist, she backed out of the room, slamming the door shut. At a sprinting pace, she began the trek to Gym.