Gemotions

The remote control slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the hardwood floor. Another show, another hour wasted. The day stretched before me, an endless, featureless expanse. I hadn't left the house in three days. My stomach felt hollow, like a forgotten cavern. Maybe I should eat something. Or maybe not. It didn't seem to matter.

A flyer on the refrigerator, a splash of vibrant color in the beige monotony, caught my eye. "New Therapy Practice Opening!" it proclaimed, with a photo of a smiling woman. Sarah Jenkins. My heart lurched. Sarah Jenkins? My childhood tormentor? The girl who'd delighted in making my life miserable? I felt a curious mix of dread and morbid curiosity coil in my gut.

I dialed the number, my hand shaking. The receptionist's voice was bright and efficient. An appointment? Yes, she could squeeze me in. My own voice sounded flat, lifeless even to my own ears, as I mumbled my name and agreed to the time.