Gemotions

The weight of the overdue bills felt crushing. Sarah, clutching the frayed edges of her coat, felt the chill seep into her bones, though the late autumn sun shone brightly. Her freelance gigs were drying up, her savings dwindling. A sense of futility wrapped itself around her, squeezing the air from her lungs. She wandered aimlessly through the park, watching children laugh, their carefree joy a sharp contrast to her own gloom.

A friend had told her about a good therapist, said he was empathetic and helpful. She'd dismissed the idea at first, but the mounting stress had begun to manifest in physical ways. Headaches, sleepless nights. The need to reach out was becoming undeniable.

When she'd arrived at the office, she had felt a slight easing of tension when she walked through the door. It vanished when the door opened, and she found herself staring at the calm, almost familiar face of David Miller. The same David Miller who’d tripped her, stolen her lunch money, and once, humiliated her in front of the entire class. Her stomach lurched.