[ WP ] You are 100 % convinced that you are the sole surviving member of the human race , despite the fact that today is your first appointment with a shrink for the very same reason .

I moved through the streets, depressed, tired. Surviving in this melancholy state of a town had taken its toll on me the past few days. I had my phone, but what was the point? The cell towers would be down, there would be no calls, no internet, no messages. 
 
 I walked through what seemed to me a city of glass. My reflection cast off in every direction, but was distorted by the various angles of it. In one direction, I looked like a woman clutching her purse. In the other, a skater attempting to learn a new trick. Ahead of me, a bus waiting to pick up several people. Reflections are an amazing thing, are n't they? 
 
 I moved through the streets, being careful to run into any panes of glass. The reflections stared at me. Some smiled, others turned away, while a select few stared in silence. Ah, I guess the isolation is doing a number on me now. I'm now giving the reflections personalities. This will have to come up in the meeting. 
 
 I reached the corner and entered the door. It's a small office, with reflections resembling patients and workers. I knew better than last time, and just strolled right in the office in the back. The reflections I made glared at me, and the one resembling woman at the desk called out to me, `` He's ready to see you John!'' I held my head, I had to stop hearing things. 
 
 I reached his door which had the words *Clark Redman PsyD. *, painted on it in elaborate cursive. I did n't bother knocking, and opened the door calmly. I saw the reflection of me that resembled Dr. Redman. 
 
 `` Hello, doc,'' I said drearily. 
 
 He looked at me, `` Well, hello John.'' He paused for a minute to collect some papers from his desk. He was a stout older man with glasses permanently ingrained over his eyes. `` Have we had any progress?'' 
 
 I laughed, `` You mean, have you had any progress, doctor?'' 
 
 Dr. Redman looked at me thoughtfully. `` Well yes I have,'' he paused for a moment, `` I've learned a lot about what I call the *Survivor Complex*'' 
 
 `` Surivior Complex?'' My imaginary conversations with this shrink never ceased to amaze me. Where in my subconscious did I devise that name? 
 
 `` Yes, the concept where one believes he is the sole survivor of a group of people, in your case the human race, and ca n't be made to see otherwise.'' 
 
 I laughed again. I spoke, `` I do enjoy chats with my subconscious, doc, but this is bit absurd. You're suggesting that I am incorrectly believing that I am only survivor of the human race?'' 
 
 `` Well, John, if you-'' 
 
 I stood up, suddenly feeling sick. I could n't have these thoughts, living alone is going to be hard enough. I should have never let a reflection develop a voice in the first place. I had put my trust in my imagination, and that would be my downfall. 
 
 `` Good day, Doctor Redman. I should say this will be my last appointment.'' 
 
 As I left, I heard Redman mutter something, it was in the context of `` hoplessly lost'' and `` phoning the police''.
