Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the clinic felt suffocating. Amelia sat in the hard chair, legs crossed, hands folded tightly in her lap. The office was decorated with framed affirmations, and she wanted to tear them all down. She imagined ripping each one to shreds, as if that could somehow dismantle the feeling that had been eating away at her for weeks.

She’d almost cancelled the appointment. The idea of baring her soul to *him* was a revolting prospect. Yet, here she was, the air thick with the memory of a past he held claim to.

She heard the door open and a polite voice called her name. The blood pulsed in her ears, a frantic drumbeat. She stood, her movements stiff, and followed the receptionist down the hall.