Gemotions

The receptionist, a young woman with kind eyes, led him down a long hallway to a door marked "Dr. Evelyn Reed." He was not ready.

He'd been so sure he’d found peace with his old nemesis, Evelyn, after all these years. That the childhood torment had faded into the background of a distant memory. Now, with his wife's insistence to get therapy, here he was. The irony was almost too much to bear.

His heart pounded in his chest as he knocked. When the door opened, Evelyn’s smile was professional and practiced, a stark contrast to the memory of her sneering face. He wanted to turn and flee. He didn’t.

"Come in, Michael," she said, her voice smooth. His feet, heavy and reluctant, carried him into the room.