Gemotions

He fidgeted with the pen on the desk, clicking it repeatedly. The sound echoed in his ears, a frantic rhythm against his racing heart. He refused to look up. He focused on the patterns in the rug, the slight imperfections in the wood of the desk. Every detail screamed of how absurd this situation was. The therapist, whose laughter had once fueled his misery, was now patiently waiting, her gaze steady and unwavering. The irony of it all almost made him laugh, except he was too close to tears.