Gemotions

The elevator doors opened onto the ninth floor, and David stepped out, breathing deeply. He needed this appointment. He thought he was prepared. Then he saw the nameplate. “Dr. Emily Carter, Clinical Psychologist.” *Emily.* The Emily who used to relentlessly tease him in high school, the one who’d orchestrated that humiliating prank at the school dance.

He felt the blood drain from his face. His carefully constructed facade of composure crumbled. His palms started sweating and he gripped the straps of his bag, knuckles white. The receptionist smiled at him, a genuine, friendly smile, and said “Dr. Carter is ready for you now, David.”

He took a step backwards, ready to leave, but then he took a deep breath. He couldn't. He straightened his shoulders. This was about him, not her. He walked into the office, his stomach doing somersaults.