Gemotions

The morning stretched before David, a vast, empty canvas filled with gray. His steps were heavy, each footfall a reminder of the leaden feeling in his chest. He felt… hollow, like a shell. He just wanted to disappear.

He arrived at the office, the building looking unfamiliar.

He noticed the name plate, "Dr. Susan Miller, LCSW." Susan, the girl who, in high school, had reveled in his insecurities, was now his therapist. His breath hitched in his throat.

"David, come on in. Have a seat," she offered, her voice soft but unnervingly familiar. David just wanted to leave.