Gemotions

The therapy session was a tightrope walk. Amelia found herself deliberately choosing the most innocuous topics, steering clear of any hint of vulnerability. Across from her, Daniel, the boy who'd once called her "Mousey," listened with a neutral expression. His office, a small, sun-filled room, felt suffocating.

She spoke about her job, her dog, the weather. He nodded, offering predictable affirmations. She could feel a coldness settling inside her. Every time his eyes met hers, the memory of his taunts, his laughter, resurfaced.

She watched him. He had a soothing voice. He offered water. He was trying to be kind. But the well of anger inside her remained. It wouldn’t budge.