Gemotions

The appointment was for my sister, but I had insisted on coming along. I couldn’t help it. Mrs. Peterson, the bane of my existence throughout junior high, was now Dr. Peterson. A psychologist. I felt a prickle of unease run down my spine as I entered the waiting room.

Her name was printed neatly on a sign on the desk, the letters somehow both familiar and alien. The room was peaceful, unlike the chaos she usually inflicted. The walls were painted a soothing shade of blue, and sunlight streamed through the large windows.

When she finally called my sister's name, I saw her face. Mrs. Peterson. Older, yes, but still possessing that same steely gaze. I wanted to disappear. It was a strange feeling, a sort of dizziness.