Gemotions

Eliza stared at the ceiling, the stucco texture an uninteresting grid above her. Her fingers tapped a restless rhythm on the duvet. It had been a Tuesday. Just another Tuesday. She hadn't left her bed since breakfast. The sunlight, diffused by the curtains, cast long, static shadows across her room. The air felt thick, stagnant.

She had a sudden, random urge to confront something. She’d been scrolling through social media, and a friend had posted about a 'life coach'. She clicked the linked profile, and she was surprised to find Mark, her primary tormentor from high school. He had a picture of himself in a suit, with a serene smile. “Helping clients overcome the chains of the past,” the caption read.

Eliza snorted, then considered the irony. The sheer absurdity of it made her twitch. Should she? A small, wicked grin crept onto her face as she considered the idea. She grabbed her phone and made an appointment.