Gemotions

The ornate brass handle felt cold beneath Michael’s trembling fingers. It felt like another lifetime ago that he had last seen his tormentor, Roger. Now, Roger was Dr. Roger. He was the reason Michael was in this building, seeking the help he desperately needed.

The memories flooded back: the threats, the playground fights, the constant feeling of being watched, judged. He didn't want to see him again, ever.

The office was professional, yet inviting. Roger looked up. He seemed to have aged, his face softer, his eyes kinder. Michael was surprised by the tone of his voice, calm and welcoming. He gestured towards a chair. He listened. Michael spoke of his current struggles. There was no trace of the bully he’d once known.