Gemotions

The newspaper tumbled from Amelia’s hand, landing with a soft thud on the floor. Her breath hitched. A picture, a name, a familiar face staring back at her from the "Local Professionals" section. Mark Peterson, Licensed Clinical Social Worker. Mark Peterson, the kid who once tied her shoelaces together before a school assembly.

Amelia’s eyes sparkled. She let out a small, breathless laugh, her hand flying to her mouth to cover it. She sat down quickly. She envisioned his office, the framed diplomas, the calming decor. And the thought of Mark, the bully, now listening intently and offering counsel was a magnificent fantasy.

A low chuckle escaped her. The very idea of him, offering advice, assessing emotional issues, had her feeling giddy. Amelia reached for her phone, already composing a text to her best friend, detailing the news.