Gemotions

The paperwork spilled from her hands, a blizzard of white against the polished desk. Sarah felt a pressure building behind her eyes, a tightness in her chest that made each breath a conscious effort. Her throat constricted, making it difficult to swallow. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing the insistent ringing of the phone would cease. It was just one more thing.

She took a shaky breath, forcing her gaze to focus on the screen. The flickering cursor on the blank document mocked her. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but they wouldn't cooperate. It was all too much.

A memory flashed: Mark, a hulking figure on the school playground, looming over her. The sting of a pushed shove. The fear. And now, the receptionist had said he was a therapist. The irony twisted in her stomach.