Chapter 10

Chapter 10 — "Should I See a Therapist"

TL;DR: Perched above Los Angeles, the lion absorbs hikers’ therapy talk, tries the language on for size, and sits in a dry, sunburned sadness that won’t lift.

Summary: From a scrubby ledge with a view of the 101 and the soft dome of the Observatory, the lion listens to hikers trade words like therapist, boundaries, self-care, and breathing exercises, and wonders if a mountain can have an appointment. The lion turns their listening into a private intake, testing am i good or bad against the rattle of dry grass and the white hiss of freeway air. Snippets of a wellness podcast float up from a phone speaker; a runner stretches and says i’m working on myself, and the lion repeats the phrase as if it were a hunting trick. They try counting breaths in a patch of shade that smells of dust, sunscreen, and eucalyptus oil, but the counting only measures a steady, low ache. A couple argues about space near a trail marker, their shadows long on the chalky path, and the lion imagines a treatment plan that includes rabbits, water, and not thinking about loss. Evening unspools into a neon wash over the flats, helicopter rotors thrum the sky, and the lion’s hunger keeps time with the city’s lights. The chapter balances the joke of therapy-speak coming through a cat’s throat with the persistent weight of heat, thirst, and a sadness that clings like ash.

Key scenes:

• Chaparral overlook above the 101: lion crouches in brittle shade, eavesdropping as hikers compare therapists and “boundaries,” repeating the words with a hunter’s curiosity.
• Trail junction near a FIRE DANGER: EXTREME sign: a runner on speakerphone says he’s “doing the work”; the lion studies his trembling hands and tries on am i good or bad like a collar.
• Storm-drain mouth in a dry ravine: the lion practices “mindful breathing,” counting with the dripless dark and the smell of hot metal and old water, then gives up and listens to cicadas.
• Golden-hour ridge facing the Observatory: couple’s silhouettes arguing about “space” while the city grids glow on; the lion composes a silent “treatment plan” of quarry, shade, and forgetting.

Characters present: the mountain lion narrator, unspecified in my training

Locations / settings:

• Griffith Park chaparral ridge — tawny, rattles with lizards, wind-scrubbed shrubs and powdery dust
• Overlook toward the 101 and Los Feliz — wavering heat, car lights threading like molten beads
• Fire-danger sign pullout — sun-baked red arrow, faded Smokey Bear, splinters and staples in a scarred post
• Dry ravine and storm-drain lip — corrugated metal, graffiti ghosting the concrete, cool breathless shade
• Near the Griffith Observatory line-of-sight — white dome floating over dusk, helicopters stitching the sky

Visual motifs: bleached grass, eucalyptus shadows, sunscreen sheen on forearms, plastic water bottles half-crushed, neon shoe laces flashing, cracked phone screen bleeding blue light, “EXTREME” red on a sun-faded sign, helicopter searchlight cones, smog-pink sunset grading into bruise-purple, dust motes in slant sun, coyote tracks beside human sneaker treads, chaparral oils shimmering, city lights like scattered salt

Emotional tone: wry, tender, parched, quietly bereft

Confidence: medium — grounded in the book’s middle “above the city” section and known motifs, but specific chapter beats are not fully recalled and some details are inferred from context