Gemotions

The flickering fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, a constant, irritating reminder of the hours he’d spent in this space. He tried to focus on his breathing, but it was like trying to contain a wildfire. A memory bubbled to the surface: him, younger, pushing her into the mud.

He'd been so sure he’d left that world behind. He'd done everything. Moved on, healed, they said. But the moment he'd seen the name, a coldness had seeped into his bones.

The door swung open, and there he was: Thomas, or, as he was now known, Dr. Reynolds. He looked… calm. Too calm.

"Good afternoon, Mr…?"

"It’s now Mr. Jones,” he spat. He couldn't keep his voice down.

He felt the tremors begin again. He had to calm himself. But the other man's presence was like a wound.