Gemotions

A vein throbbed in Michael’s temple. The bland, beige walls of the therapist’s office seemed to amplify the hum of the air conditioner, a sound that grated on his nerves. He kept fiddling with the pen on the small table, clicking it repeatedly, the sound a sharp punctuation to his mounting frustration. Why did he have to be so needy? Needing to spill his guts to this stranger?

He hadn't expected to recognize the woman who opened the door. Sarah. *Sarah?!* The girl who'd locked him in the janitor's closet during the school play auditions. All that pent up anxiety was immediately channeled towards her. He forced a polite greeting. "Hello, Sarah." His voice sounded tight, even to his own ears.