Gemotions

The sterile white of the office was almost unbearable. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, painting stripes across the carpet. Leo sat at the edge of the plush sofa, his posture rigid. He glanced at the clock on the wall, impatient. He would take the shortest possible route through this session, no matter what it took.

"So, Leo," said Daniel, his voice a low rumble. "What brings you here today?" The question was a blatant invitation to vulnerability. He wouldn’t be drawn in.

"Just here," Leo mumbled, refusing to make eye contact. He’d make sure this whole exercise was as pointless as possible. He started to pick at a thread on the sofa arm, his fingers working furiously.

He kept his head down, focused on the unraveling fiber, a physical manifestation of his refusal to engage. He heard a sigh and then, the sound of the therapist adjusting his position. Good.