Gemotions

He’d walked the block multiple times, trying to work up the courage. He felt numb. The address was etched into his memory. The name, a brand on his soul: "Gary Thompson, Therapist." He knew it was the same Gary Thompson, the one who had made his childhood a relentless trial. The one who had broken his spirit.

The office was modern, minimalist, almost aggressively calm. He sat in a chair, his hands clenched in his lap. He felt a profound sense of dread. The thought of opening himself up, of revealing his vulnerabilities to that man, was almost unbearable.

The door opened and Gary stood there. He looked older, more… polished. But the eyes were the same. He offered a warm smile. "Please, come in. I’m Gary." He struggled to his feet, feeling as though he were wading through molasses.