Gemotions

The sterile smell of the office nearly choked her. Emily fidgeted, adjusting the strap of her purse for the tenth time. The lobby's muted colors and soft lighting did nothing to quell the internal storm. She'd been on the verge of tears for the past hour, since realizing who the therapist was. She hadn't seen him in twenty years, not since high school. Mark Jenkins. The man who'd made her life a misery.

She considered feigning illness, maybe inventing a pressing engagement. But the thought of dealing with this alone, battling her demons without professional help, was worse. She needed this, she told herself. She had to confront her issues.

The door opened, and she flinched, as if expecting a blow. His face was the same, only older, softened by time. His eyes met hers, and her mouth went dry.
“Emily?” he asked, a polite, professional tone she hadn't expected.