Gemotions

He stared at the blank notepad, the sterile white a reflection of the emptiness he felt inside. He found himself avoiding difficult situations, preferring the comfort of the familiar. He would always seek out help. It was the only way he knew how to cope.

Seeing "Dr. Reynolds" on the door felt like a punch to the gut. It was him, the same guy who'd stolen his lunch money every day in the fourth grade, the same bully who'd made him feel small and insignificant.

He sank into the chair as soon as he was told. He was unable to help himself. His own agency vanished, and he waited for direction.

"So," Dr. Reynolds began, his voice calm, "What brings you here today?"

He had to get through this, he hoped.