Gemotions

The waiting room was a study in muted tones, creams and pale greens that seemed to absorb the light. I leaned back in the plush armchair, the fabric cool against my skin. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting gentle stripes across the polished floor. My breathing was slow, deep, each inhale and exhale a measured rhythm.

I tapped my fingers lightly against my knee, the sound a delicate punctuation in the otherwise quiet space. It was the end of a long week, and the prospect of finally addressing my issues felt like a pleasant release. I'd found Dr. Harding through a colleague's recommendation, and from the initial phone call, they seemed...grounded.

The door opened, and a woman appeared, her face familiar. "Sarah?" she asked, a slight smile playing on her lips. It was then that the name registered above the office door: Dr. Rebecca Harding. My childhood bully. A wave of stillness washed over me, deeper than I’d known before.