Gemotions

The silence of the hallway was crushing. Ethan stared at the closed door, the seconds ticking by with agonizing slowness. He checked his watch for the tenth time in five minutes. He felt a knot in his stomach, a physical manifestation of his restlessness.

He needed to talk, to vent, to begin the healing process. He hated being kept waiting. It was utterly counterproductive. He wanted to go now.

The door opened. There, standing before him, was the face of his childhood bully, now a licensed professional. A wave of disbelief, mingled with a burning sense of urgency, coursed through him.