Gemotions

The silence in the apartment was deafening. Michael stared at the half-eaten pizza, the remnants of a failed attempt to celebrate his birthday alone. He felt a deep ache inside, an emptiness that no amount of food could fill. Each failure, each rejection, echoed in his mind, fueling the feeling that he was falling behind. He felt so utterly alone.

His sister had insisted he seek help. He’d resisted, seeing therapy as a sign of weakness. Then the panic attacks started, gripping his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He'd relented. He was supposed to see a Dr. Carter.

When he opened the office door, the woman sitting behind the desk greeted him with a practiced smile. Her eyes seemed to widen slightly with recognition. It was Karen, the girl who used to call him "four eyes" and hide his books during recess. He felt his face flush. He just wanted to disappear.