Gemotions

She had spent the morning trying to brace herself, running through scenarios in her head, preparing for the inevitable discomfort. She had expected to feel vulnerable, exposed. She hadn't anticipated this.

The waiting room was filled with the usual suspects of her frustration: generic furniture, soft lighting, the hushed tones of other patients. She tapped her foot impatiently, the repetitive motion doing little to quell her growing unease. She was ready. Or so she thought.

The receptionist called her name. She walked down the hall, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. The door opened and there he was. Her jaw tightened, a cold fury rising within her. He looked the same as she remembered, a small smirk playing on his lips. She felt a sudden, intense urge to just break something.