Gemotions

The waiting room was decorated in soothing shades of blue and cream, but it offered little comfort. My palms were slick, and I surreptitiously rubbed them against my jeans. The framed nature prints seemed to mock my unease with their serene landscapes. The magazine I’d selected sat untouched in my lap.

A sharp rap on the door echoed through the room. My chest felt constricted. The voice that called out was unmistakably his, “Come in!” I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. This was a terrible idea.

I pushed open the door, and there he was, leaning back in his chair, exactly as I’d remembered him, only older, softened somehow. He offered a polite smile, but my stomach clenched. I stumbled over my words, suddenly feeling like the small, awkward kid again. “Hello, Mark… I mean, Dr. Thompson.”