Gemotions

The sterile white of Dr. Evelyn’s office felt like a cage. Sarah’s breath hitched in her throat, quick and shallow. The appointment had been scheduled weeks ago, but she'd only discovered who was behind the name just this morning. Evelyn Pratt. The girl who’d made her life a misery in high school.

She could picture Evelyn's perfectly coiffed hair, her carefully curated outfits. The air itself seemed to crackle with tension. This was not a coincidence. This was some kind of elaborate power play.

She fidgeted in her seat, every muscle tight. She wanted to bolt, to escape this manufactured serenity. But the thought of her own therapist's gentle nudge kept her glued to the chair. She would endure this. She had to.

Her hands shook as she attempted to take a drink of water, but she ended up spilling it down the front of her shirt. Evelyn, of course, was unfazed.