Gemotions

The air in the office was thick with a cloying scent of potpourri, a scent that immediately brought back unpleasant memories. He saw *her* sitting behind a desk, looking at him with what was supposed to be a compassionate gaze. It was impossible to believe.

"Please, come in, Michael," she said, her voice soft and professional. It was Susan, who had always found delight in his misery. The school bully. Now a therapist. The irony was almost comical, except that it wasn’t.

He took a step back, his shoulders tensing. He wasn't sure he could go through with this. "I, uh... I think I'm in the wrong place," he mumbled, his voice a barely audible whisper. He hated her.