Gemotions

He stared at the blank screen, the cursor blinking like a malevolent eye. He’d been trying to write the email for hours, the words refusing to form. Each attempt dissolved into a jumble of incoherent thoughts and frustrated sighs. He needed help. He knew he did.

He'd reluctantly looked at a therapist website. The profiles blurred together until one caught his eye. The photo was a little outdated, but he recognized the familiar smirk, the narrowed eyes. It was Tom Miller. The same Tom Miller who had made his school years a misery.

He buried his face in his hands, a groan escaping his lips. How was he supposed to do this?