Gemotions

He had to be mistaken. This couldn't be happening. He’d seen the name on the sign, but surely there was another "Mark Thompson" in the city. He'd even double-checked the address. But as the door swung open, revealing a familiar cascade of blonde hair and a too-knowing smile, the air rushed out of him. He could feel his face flush, a heat spreading from his neck up to his temples. “Come in, Mark,” she said, her voice smooth and carefully neutral. His hand froze on the doorknob. He stammered something unintelligible and then stepped inside, his legs feeling like they were made of lead.