Gemotions

The thought had sprung to mind during her morning run. Clara had almost choked on her granola. Reginald “The Ruiner” Rupert, a therapist? The guy who’d orchestrated the epic toilet-papering of her house during their senior year? The image of him, counseling teenagers, was pure, unadulterated joy.

She skipped up the steps to his office, a spring in her step. The door was painted a bland, institutional beige. Clara, without hesitation, knocked with a brisk rap-tap-tap. A moment later, she pushed the door open to find a nervous Reginald seated in a large leather chair.

"Reginald, darling!" she exclaimed, her voice bright. "Just thought I'd check in and see how the healing is going. Any chance of, you know, a group therapy session on the art of revenge?" She winked.