Gemotions

The sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. He sat rigidly, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, refusing to make eye contact. He found it difficult to breathe in the suffocating silence.

“So, Alex,” Mark began, his voice soft, almost a whisper, “what’s been on your mind?”

He shifted in the chair, a slow, deliberate movement. He would not break. He would not concede. He would remain impassive, silent, a challenge posed to the man who’d once made his life a misery. The session started.