Gemotions

The elevator doors opened onto a sleek, modern office. The nameplate read, "Dr. Ethan Carter, Counseling Services." He stopped dead, every muscle in his body suddenly rigid. It was the Ethan Carter. The one who had always found creative ways to torment him.

He felt a sudden rush of heat, his face flushing. He gripped the strap of his bag so tightly his knuckles turned white. His mouth went dry. What was he supposed to do? Turn around and leave? Pretend he didn’t see it?

He took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to calm the storm brewing within him. He was here for help, and he needed it. He took a step forward, then another, steeling himself for whatever awaited him behind that polished door.