Gemotions

The remote control slipped from Leo’s grasp, clattering onto the coffee table. Another rerun of a sitcom he’d seen a dozen times. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes, the pressure behind them a familiar ache. He'd been lounging on the sofa all day, the blinds drawn, the world outside a blurry watercolor painting. He considered getting up, maybe making a sandwich, but the thought felt heavy, a chore. He sank deeper into the cushions, letting the silence of the apartment press in on him.

A notification chimed on his phone. A local news story: “Childhood Bully Becomes Therapist.” He idly clicked the link. The accompanying picture was a surprise. It was Mark, his tormentor from middle school. He hadn't thought about him in years. The article detailed Mark’s practice, his specialty, his philosophy. Huh.

He scrolled through Mark's website. The pictures of the office seemed so…inviting. He felt a weird, unfamiliar tug. He closed the browser. He then immediately opened it again.