Brenda accompanied the patient out the door. The muscles at the base of her neck ached. Her feet too.

"One last," she thought. "One last patient and I can go home."

The name on her list was odd. No address, no phone number, simply the name Cinderella. One of these days, she would really have to talk to her secretary on how to properly fill out admission forms.

She entered the waiting room and sat on one the creaky chair was the so-called Cinderella. She wore a huge blue poofy dress with butterflies on the top and transparent heels.

"How the hell does she not die from heat in this Californian weather?" Brenda wondered. "And man do these shoes seem uncomfortable."

The woman stood up.

"Nice to meet you Miss Cinderella. My name is Brenda Stiles," she greeted in her formal but cordial tone. She held out her hand but Miss Cinderella curtsied instead.

"I'm delighted to make your acquaintance Mademoiselle Stiles. And it's simply Cinderella, no 'Miss' in front of it," she smiled. Her voice was as light as air and as delicate as a glass bell.

"Would you accompany me to my office Cinderella?"

She nodded. Brenda felt stupid for a moment for calling her like that but heck, that hadn't been the weirdest thing that had heppened this week so far. The day before, a male patient, Brad, had insisted on showing her his penis, in order to prove to her that the problems in his marriage weren't sex-related. That had been a fun Tuesday.

The two women sat down. Brenda pulled out her clipboard and pen and started filling out a brand-new patient record.

"So Cinderella, how old are you?"

"Sixteen."

Brenda looked up. Cinderella must have felt like she ought to explain and simply said "I use a lot of night creams." Brenda struck down the answer, considering investing in some quality skin care. "And what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a princess."

Brenda started laughing. Unprofessional for sure but quite natural for a late session. She had a tendency to be giggly after 5 pm. But Cinderella didn't laugh. In fact, she looked utterly confused. "Maybe a disillusioned patient," thought Brenda. The psychiatrist decided to play along. "A princess of which country?" she asked, trying her best to maintain a straight face.

"The Magic Kingdom of course."

"What's that now?"

"You know, the Magic Kingdom. It's a beautiful place," Cinderella said, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree. "It has beautiful gardens, all the people are humble and polite - except for some people of course, including most of my family but we'll get back to that - and the animals are a pleasure to be around".

"Well, that's a first," Brenda thought. "And where exactly is this kingdom?"

"North of here"

"North like Sacramento or like Seattle?"

"Even norther than that I believe."

"Damn, Canada?"

"I can't be sure," Cinderella answered, flustered. "I traveled here in a carriage and was asleep for most of it".

Brenda wrote "possible hostage situation" on the record and got back to asking standard questions. "And what brings you here Cinderella?"

"Recently, I've felt like my life lacks something. I love my husband and I love my subjects but on a day-to-day basis, I feel bored most of the time. My husband has practically forbidden me to clean the house, even though it's one of the only things I'm good at!"

"Ok, why don't you bring me back to the beginning. How did you meet your husband?"

"That's a pretty funny story actually. So, for most of my life, I've been abused by my stepmother and my stepsisters," she said, completely unbothered by the topic. "And one day..."

"Wow wow, slow down," Brenda interrupted. "What do you mean 'abused'?"

"Oh nothing serious dear," Cinderella smiled. "They just forced me to work ten hours a day for them, giving me absolutely no recognition, salary or love. They relegated me to the attic when my father first married my stepmother and then when he died, I became their full-time maid, cook, gardener and their scapegoat for anything wrong in their life," she declared, her smile never leaving her face.

Brenda stared at her for a second, mouth agape, disturbed by how easily Cinderella had unloaded on her.

"But that's okay now, they've been banished from the kingdom and I'll never have to speak to them ever again".

"Oh... Okay".

"Anyway, I went in secret to a ball - or three, depending on which version you decide to base yourself on - and I met my beautiful prince. He is just so gorgeous. And kind. We hit it off right away. But then, my gibface of a stepmother found out, broke my slipper and locked me in the attic so that I couldn't speak to my beloved. But he managed to find me by making all the women in the kingdom try the shoe I left when I ran from him."

"You ran from him? Why?"

"Because the fairy godmother's magic was wearing off," she said in an obvious tone.

"Of course," Brenda said, in the same tone as her patient. She added the word "drugs" to her record. "Please, keep going"

"Isn't that the most romantic act you've ever seen?" she squealed. "He organised a nation-wide search in order to find me! Me!" she squealed.

"Feel like he should've just done a Google search but sure," she whispered to herself. She was exhausted and wanted to get it done with. "So, what can I help you with Cinderella?"

"Now that the great adventure of my life is over, I'm... I'm bored."

"Have you tried... having a hobby ?"

"What is that?"

"I don't know, a passion, an artistic or a physical outlet?"

"I've always liked taking care of animals," Cinderella whispered to herself.

"Well there you go! Go adopt some animals."

"Thank you so much Brenda. You're a real life-saver!"

Cinderella left the room, glitters falling along the path she took.

"What do you know," Brenda said, gathering her belongings, "Brad's broken penis wasn't the weirdest thing this week".