Gemotions

The sunlight seemed to mock her, streaming through the window and illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. Claire hated the room, the beige walls, the bland furniture. It was the same dull, lifeless aesthetic as the man she was about to face.

She gripped her handbag, the leather cool and smooth against her sweaty palms. She’d seen the name on the practice’s website: “Matthew Thompson, Counseling Services.” She’d recognized the name instantly. The boy who’d made her life a misery for years. Now he was a counselor. A sick joke, surely.

Her stomach churned. She felt a deep… disapproval of the whole situation. She wished she had some form of escape. She considered turning around. But no. She had to see it through.