Gemotions

A giggle escaped Amelia’s lips as she stared at the clinic sign. “Dr. Rex Thistle, Therapist.” Rex Thistle, the bane of her existence in fourth grade, the kid who’d once stolen her favorite sparkly unicorn eraser and replaced it with a chewed-up pencil stub. Now, a doctor of… feelings? She imagined him in a tiny, tweed jacket, probably dispensing advice on the importance of sharing. A mischievous grin spread across her face.

She strolled into the waiting room, humming a jaunty tune. The space was tastefully decorated, calming blues and greens. She grabbed a pamphlet, flipped it open, and began to doodle devil horns on a picture of a serene-looking woman. Her foot tapped a rapid rhythm against the polished floor.

"Amelia?" A voice, instantly recognizable. Rex. He looked… older. And… well, still vaguely annoyed, though it was probably just his default setting.

“Rex! Fancy seeing you here,” she chirped, her voice brimming with delight. “Just thought I’d pop in. You know, for a chat.”