Gemotions

The weight in her chest felt like a physical burden, a solid block of ice lodged there. Every breath was an effort. She’d tried everything: medication, meditation, endless cups of tea. Nothing helped. Now, she was here. His office, a stark white space, felt alien. The name plate on the door read "David Lee, PhD." It wasn’t just a coincidence. It couldn't be.

The door clicked open and there he was. David. The boy who’d made her cry on the playground every day. The boy who'd laughed when she fell. The man who’d once been the bane of her existence, now sat before her, in a button-down shirt and soft lighting.

He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "So, Sarah," he said, his voice level and calm. He had an understanding expression that felt like an insult. The words she’d practiced evaporated, replaced by a strange, hollow silence. She felt a trickle of sweat run down her spine.