Gemotions

The waiting room smelled like lavender and forced positivity. Amelia tapped her perfectly manicured nails against the floral-print chair, a tiny staccato beat against the suffocating silence. She flipped through a magazine, carefully avoiding eye contact with the framed diplomas on the wall. Each one felt like a personal affront. *Therapist.* She snorted, the sound barely audible. The same Sarah who used to tie her shoelaces together on the playground, now claiming to understand her innermost feelings? The absurdity of it was almost comical.

A woman with a kind smile and a too-bright cardigan emerged from a doorway. "Amelia? Sarah will see you now." Amelia rose, a slight straightening of her back the only indication of her internal battle. She followed the woman, her jaw tight, ready for battle.