Gemotions

The elevator ride felt interminable. Each floor ticked by, each chime ratcheting up a feeling of... something. It was building. Building like a storm. Amy ran her hand over her jeans, smoothing them. It was a useless action.

She stepped out and found the suite. The door was a bland, neutral color. Dr. Peter something-or-other, the sign read. She took a deep breath, trying to slow her rapid heartbeat. That name, Peter, was the same as the boy who had once tormented her.

The receptionist smiled, a practiced expression. "He'll be with you shortly," she said. The waiting room was filled with hushed tones and a thick silence that grated on her nerves. She just wanted to leave.