Where might he go after listening to me for fifty minutes? As I walked into his office and glanced at Martin on my way to the couch, something told me that he would leave this space after our hour together. He wore a red sweater as he often had in recent months. He didn’t appear in a hurry. My intuition told me he would leave soon after me. This uncertainty disappeared as the session itself became a dominant presence in my conscious mind. Unconscious images appeared as the hour progressed, in the form of a memory from decades earlier. I was surprised at how quickly time passed. When I heard Martin, seated behind me, say that our time was up, for a moment I thought he’d said something else. Misunderstandings were common enough. I wondered whether they even existed in psychoanalysis, in an atmosphere where the unconscious was given much room to play. I stood up, glanced at him again on my way out, rode the elevator four floors down, left the building, and found myself on a crowded sidewalk in downtown Seattle during lunchtime. As if it were following its own logic, my body seemed to move me toward the nearest coffee shop. I ordered a drip coffee without knowing why I did so. Work awaited me at home, which was where I usually had my afternoon coffee. I left the coffee shop and headed toward a light rail station. Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice while we waited to cross the street. He was talking on his cell phone. I noticed the red sweater first. Martin was also on his way somewhere. Before he could turn his head toward me, I hurried away, in the opposite direction. I would have plenty of time to think about these moments during tomorrow’s session.