Gemotions

He stared at the framed landscape painting on the wall, a pastoral scene that did absolutely nothing to soothe his frayed nerves. The room was too quiet, and the temperature felt wrong, either too hot or too cold. He shifted in the uncomfortable chair, feeling a rising tide of unease. He felt trapped.

He’d almost turned around at the door. He’d almost walked away. But a sense of obligation, coupled with a deep, weary resignation, had kept him here. He glanced at his watch. Time seemed to be moving at a maddeningly slow pace.

The door opened, and his heart sank. There she stood, the one person he least wanted to see. Jessica, who had made a sport of humiliating him. She looked exactly the same. “Mark, come on in,” she said, her voice a syrupy blend of false concern. He felt his face heat, and his hands began to tremble.