Gemotions

He had been putting this off for weeks. He'd scheduled the appointment, then canceled it, then rescheduled, then almost canceled again. He gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. His stomach lurched as he pulled into the parking lot. His jaw ached from clenching it so tightly.

He walked to the entrance of the clinic, each step feeling heavier than the last. He mumbled his name to the receptionist. He almost couldn’t believe this was happening. He sat down in the waiting room, trying to appear nonchalant, as if he were simply there for a routine check-up.

When his name was called, his heart rate spiked. He rose and walked to the room's door, each footfall awkward and unsteady. He knew the therapist. He knew the shape of her mouth, the set of her shoulders, the way she would look at you with that all-knowing gaze. He really needed to turn around and leave, and yet he didn't.