Gemotions

He practically sprinted down the hallway, the worn soles of his sneakers slapping against the linoleum. The flyer had been a revelation: “Dr. Eleanor Vance, PhD, Licensed Therapist.” Below the name, a picture. It was her. The same girl who had turned his life into a living hell with her cutting remarks and relentless teasing. He’d signed up for the first available slot, feeling as if a dam inside had burst.

He arrived fifteen minutes early, pretending to read a magazine, his leg bouncing uncontrollably. He kept glancing at the door, his mind racing. Would she remember him? Would she be surprised? Would she…? He stopped himself. He had to breathe.

The receptionist called his name. He nearly tripped getting up. He walked into the office, his stomach doing somersaults. Eleanor looked up, her expression neutral. "Please, have a seat."