Gemotions

He stared at the blank page in his notepad, a pen clutched tightly in his fist. He had spent the last hour lost in thought, the sterile office a poor reflection of his own thoughts. His mouth felt dry.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. He, who had caused so much distress, was now expected to listen, to understand. He wanted to shout. He wanted to run.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his trembling hand. He had to be calm. He had to be professional. The weight of his past felt crushing.