Gemotions

The coffee shop’s cheerful chatter faded into a dull drone. Michael stared at the flyer, the image of his childhood tormentor smiling back at him, the words "Therapist. Helping others." He crumpled the paper in his hands, his fingers trembling. He couldn't shake the image of the playground, of the taunts, the shove that sent him sprawling.

His breath hitched in his chest. He felt a sudden, desperate urge to flee, to disappear, to erase the very memory of this discovery. He slammed the flyer on the table, feeling the cold metal of the coffee cup against his sweaty palms, the world around him blurring.

He thought, "It's a mistake."