Gemotions

Sarah gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. Rain lashed against the windshield, mirroring the frantic drumming in her chest. She’d been avoiding this part of town for years, but now, here she was, parked outside the nondescript office building. A sign reading “Dr. Mark Jensen, Therapy Services” hung crookedly above the entrance. Mark Jensen. The same Mark Jensen who used to trip her in the school hallway, steal her lunch money, and call her names.

She stared at the door. Her stomach churned. Taking a deep breath, Sarah told herself it was just a coincidence. She had to believe that. She had to convince herself that the knot in her throat would disappear if she took one step, just one, toward the entrance. It felt like her feet were glued to the car floor.

Finally, she slammed the car door shut and stalked toward the building. Her hand trembled as she reached for the handle.