Gemotions

Sarah glared at the building. The sign, “Dr. David Miller, Therapist,” practically mocked her. David. Of all the people she could have ended up seeing, it was him. The boy who’d ripped her favorite teddy bear to shreds in second grade. The boy who’d called her names that still stung. Now, he was supposed to help her? The audacity!

Her jaw clenched. She felt a knot in her shoulder blades so rigid, she could barely breathe. She pictured his face, the smug grin, the condescending tilt of his head. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to make him understand the damage he'd inflicted. She imagined the scene – he’d be trying to sound all empathetic and caring while she was struggling to not break down and yell.

“Sarah?” A voice startled her. It was him, of course. Standing there in the doorway, a friendly smile plastered on his face. She felt a surge of pure, unadulterated… irritation.