Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the waiting room, mirroring the turmoil brewing inside Amelia. She clutched the worn handle of her handbag, her knuckles white. It had been years, decades even, since she'd last seen Mark Harrison. Mark, the boy who'd delighted in tripping her in the school hallways, the boy who'd spread cruel rumors like wildfire. Now, here she was, seeking solace in his professional care.

She closed her eyes, picturing his face as a teenager, sneering and triumphant. Her chest tightened. She took a deep breath, focusing on the soft hum of the air conditioning. The receptionist called her name. As she stood, she found herself smoothing down her skirt, suddenly self-conscious.

The office was tastefully decorated, calming. As she entered the room, Mark rose from behind his desk. He was older, of course, his face etched with lines of maturity. There was a gentle kindness in his eyes that she didn't recall. "Amelia," he said, his voice quiet. "Please, have a seat." And then, a smile that seemed genuine.