Gemotions

The polished wood of the door reflected his own anxious face. His fingers were laced together, his knuckles white. He clung to the things he knew. The things he trusted.

He needed someone to rely on, someone to tell him what to do.

He saw the nameplate. “Dr. Karen Miller, LCSW.” Karen Miller, his childhood friend who had never truly understood him. He felt exposed, vulnerable.

He sat in the chair, a knot of dread tightening in his stomach. He was trapped.

He had no choice but to listen. He had to be told what to do.