Gemotions

The irony was almost too much to bear. Frank, the boy who made his life miserable, was now a therapist. Seeing his name on the waiting room door, with "Ph.D., LPC" beneath it, had triggered a powerful sense of… something he couldn’t quite name.

He entered the office, feeling a tremor in his hands. He replayed the memories, the taunts, the physical abuse. He felt small.

Frank appeared, his face devoid of any expression. “Mr. Johnson?” he asked, his voice flat. “Come in.” He followed him, the weight of the past heavy on his shoulders.