“What do you hate the most?”
“..Why do you ask?”
“I know this is a bit personal, but it’s necessary for your psychological profile.”
“I suppose. You mind if it’s a list?”
“Of course not, go ahead.”
“Um, apathy? Ownership, deceit, betrayal…hate? Rigidness, Narrow minds. Being overly fair and square—with physical, material objects. It’s different from emotional fairness, which is actually more of an ideal.”
“Alright” she said, reassuringly, as she finished jotting down on her notepad. “Now, let’s move on to a different question.” She smiled, politely.
Damn it, this is definitely and most easily an occasion better suited for bad television.
“What do you love?”
“What do you mean?”
“Anything that comes to mind that strikes you as sacred—you may make a list for your answer as well.” She was encouraging, and gentle—but really, professional. It’s her profession, a vocation.
“Phew…this is challenging. Uh, oranges.”
She smiled again, but this time more obligated, annoyed. “How about a serious answer?”
“None of this.”
“You asked for what I loved.”