Gemotions

The waiting room was sterile, all muted blues and grays. A framed landscape print of a placid lake hung on the wall, completely at odds with the turmoil roiling in Thomas's chest. He tapped his foot, a little rhythm against the silence. It was just… ironic. After years of dodging Kevin in the hallways, now, here, Thomas was seeking *him* out for help. He reread the name on the door: Kevin Miller, M.A., LPC. A giggle threatened to escape, but he swallowed it down. This would be entertaining.

He shifted in the uncomfortable chair, feeling a prickle of anticipation. He'd imagined this scenario countless times, usually involving a swift comeuppance. Now, he’d get a front-row seat to Kevin in a position of authority, trying to sound empathetic. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

The receptionist called his name, her voice as bland as the decor. He stood, smoothing down his shirt, and followed her down the hall, his pulse quickening with a strange blend of excitement and… something else. He couldn’t quite name the feeling, but it made his stomach do a little flip.