Gemotions

The air in the waiting room was thick and heavy, like a suffocating blanket. He sat stiffly on the edge of the chair, his gaze darting from object to object, unable to focus on anything for more than a moment. The soft music playing from hidden speakers sounded strangely distorted.

He had learned, quite by accident, that the therapist his insurance had assigned him was none other than Paul Harding, the kid who had made his life a misery in high school. The discovery had hit him like a physical blow. He felt that familiar knot of anxiety twisting in his gut.

Every noise made him flinch. He glanced at the closed door, the door that would lead to… him.