Gemotions

The waiting room smelled of artificial lavender and forced calm. Amelia tapped her foot, the staccato rhythm echoing slightly in the hushed space. She’d always hated lavender, thought it was a pathetic attempt at masking real problems. And now, of all people, *her* therapist. The sign above the door read "Dr. Chad Benson, M.A., LMFT". Chad Benson. The same Chad Benson who’d once tripped her in the cafeteria and laughed while she spilled spaghetti all over her new dress. The same Chad Benson who had called her "Amelia the Awkward" in front of the entire class.

She stood up abruptly, pacing a tight circle in front of the potted fern. Her hands clenched and unclenched. Maybe this was some kind of elaborate prank. Surely, there had to be a mistake. She considered leaving, just walking out and never looking back. But she had been battling anxiety for months, and she needed help. She gritted her teeth, steeling herself for what was to come.

The door opened, and a smiling face she knew too well peered out. "Amelia? Come on in. I'm ready for you." His voice was smooth and professional, completely at odds with the memory of the cruel smirk that used to grace his face.