Gemotions

The waiting room was a study in calming neutrals. Soft light spilled from recessed fixtures, illuminating a plush, oatmeal-colored couch. Sarah sank into it, the cushions molding to her frame. She picked up a glossy magazine, flipping through the pages without really seeing them. The quiet hum of the air conditioner soothed her. She felt like she could stay there all day.

A woman with kind eyes and a familiar face opened the door. "Sarah?" she asked gently. "Come on back."

Sarah rose, the magazine slipping from her fingers. As she followed the therapist down the hall, she realized with a jolt who it was: Brenda, the bane of her existence in elementary school. The girl who used to steal her snacks and call her names. Sarah's stomach flipped, but her steps didn’t falter.

The therapy office was even more welcoming than the waiting room. A large window offered a view of a tranquil garden. Brenda gestured towards a comfortable armchair. "Have a seat," she said, her voice surprisingly soft. Sarah sat. This could work.