Gemotions

He kept seeing the face in his dreams. Not a monster, not a ghoul, but Janice. She was always there, in the periphery of his sleeping consciousness, a silent, disapproving presence. He'd woken up each morning with a knot in his stomach, a feeling of unease that clung to him like a second skin. He had to know if it was really her.

He found her website, a professionally designed page filled with soothing platitudes and stock photos of happy families. Her office was in a bright, airy building, a stark contrast to the shadowy corners of his memory. He walked through the door, the lobby a cacophony of gentle music and the smell of lavender.

When she opened the door to her office, he nearly recoiled. She was older, of course, but the smile, the way she tilted her head, it was exactly as he remembered. He felt his hands begin to tremble. He forced himself to sit down. He couldn't trust his voice to speak.