Gemotions

The park bench felt cold beneath him, the late afternoon breeze carrying the scent of damp leaves. He’d come here to calm down, but it wasn't working. His leg bounced. He was jittery.

He'd been seeing her for weeks, this therapist, Dr. Davis. She'd been helpful, even. Then he'd discovered who she was. The girl, in the same year as him, who'd led the pack.

He dug his nails into his palms. How could he have been so blind? It made him sick. He stood abruptly, the bench scraping against the pavement. He was done.