Gemotions

The waiting room seemed designed to test his patience. Soft music, muted colors, and framed artwork depicting serene landscapes – everything was engineered to calm him, and it was having the opposite effect. He felt a throbbing sensation in his head.

He’d been here for fifteen minutes, each one an eternity. He clenched his fists, knuckles white, and imagined every single scenario of what he'd say to that woman. Dr. Elizabeth Stone. The name on the door. He’d never forget how she’d made fun of his lisp.

The door opened. "Mr. Peterson?" Her voice was just the same, sweet and irritating. He had to stop himself from letting out a guttural sound. He stood up slowly, a silent tremor running through him.

He followed her into the office, his jaw tight. This was going to be a long hour.