Pre Content:
THERAPISTS ARE UNPREDICTABLE. And sometimes mercurial, inspiring, demanding and downright dangerous. Also peerlessly beautiful, at least in Byron Stout’s view. The first time he met his therapist (he thinks of her as a muse) he’d turned 6 just the day before. Outfitted in shiny new birthday cowboy boots, his first ever, young Byron was investigating a water-filled ditch outside the little Stout family home on Congress Street, in Fort Myers, not far from the big Thomas and Mina Edison home— two seemingly different worlds, at least economically. They weren’t so different, though. The families had been friends for years —...