Gemotions

The waiting room of the therapist's office was filled with the usual hushed murmurs and rustling magazines. Leo, sat across from a woman named Isabel, had been watching her for an hour. The shared nervous pacing, the hesitant glances, the shared expression of weary bewilderment. It was the only reason they'd spoken to each other at all.

Isabel finally spoke, a low, defeated voice, "He told you he was going to therapy because of his father?" Leo nodded, the same tired ache in his jaw. The irony was almost comical, except that it wasn’t. He just wanted it to be over. He was done.