"How far can you retreat?" the psychologist asked.
"Retreat from what?" the young man said, face impassive.
"From anything", the psychologist said, smiling gently.
"As far as you want, I guess".
The young man was confused and not a little frustrated by the question.
There was a pause while the psychologist studied him.
"I suppose what I mean is: sometimes we have to confront because we run out of room to retreat."
"Oh, I see. Yes, I guess that's so"
The psychologist said nothing, waiting for some further indication of self-revelation.
There was none.
"What I'm suggesting, Michael, is that it might be time for you to confront."
Michael looked down at his lap and clasped and unclasped his hands a couple of times.
Then he leapt up and flung himself at the psychologist, knocking her off her chair to the floor.
Straddled over her, he gripped both hands tight around her throat.
He was a strong young man and it wasn't long before the look in her eyes changed from disbelief to the vacant stare of the deceased.