Gemotions

The waiting room felt miles long. Every magazine felt like a judgment, every flickering fluorescent light a spotlight on her. She tugged at the hem of her too-expensive dress, a garment she'd chosen specifically to project an image of success. It was a lie, of course. A desperate attempt to mask the tremors in her hands. The receptionist’s voice, chirping her name, nearly made her jump out of her skin.

She followed the hallway, the walls closing in, until she reached the door marked with a name she both dreaded and craved to see. The door opened and there he was, grown-up but instantly recognizable. The sight of him, standing in a space he was supposed to provide refuge in, a space of support, immediately made her want to disappear.

“Come in, Sarah,” he said, his voice calmer than she remembered. He gestured to the chair. "Have a seat." The way the light caught his features made her feel exposed.