Gemotions

The waiting room smelled faintly of lavender and disappointment. A stack of well-worn magazines sat on a low table, each promising solutions to problems she didn't realize she had. Sarah tapped her foot, a steady rhythm against the polished floor. It was a nervous habit, usually. Today, it was a deliberate act of… something.

Her appointment was in five minutes. With *him*. Mark. The same Mark who used to trip her in the school hallway, steal her lunch money, and call her names she'd tried, and failed, to forget. Now, he was Dr. Mark Henderson, PhD, and she was seeking… help. The irony practically choked her.

The door to the office opened. Mark, looking impossibly calm and… professional, greeted her with a smile that felt more patronizing than friendly. "Sarah," he said, his voice smooth and practiced. "Come on in." She had to bite back the urge to roll her eyes.