Gemotions

The vinyl chairs of the waiting room pressed into Clara’s back. The room felt stifling. She fiddled with the strap of her purse, a nervous habit. Time stretched, each second a painful drag. Why did this have to take so long?

She wanted to be inside, already working through her issues. She felt as though she was simmering. She’d made a list, prepared her thoughts, and yet, she was stuck in this holding pattern.

The door opened. It was him. Her childhood tormentor, now a therapist. A jolt, a physical sensation of frustration and defiance, surged through her.