Gemotions

He stared out the rain-streaked window, the city lights blurring into an indistinguishable glow. Another sleepless night. Another day he'd have to face. He'd booked the appointment weeks ago, hoping a professional might help untangle the mess inside him. Now, sitting in the therapist's office, he felt a strange sense of…inevitability.

The therapist finally entered, his face breaking into a polite smile. It was Mr. Peterson, the bane of his teenage existence. His eyes widened slightly, then masked themselves with professional composure.

"David, is it? Please, have a seat," Peterson gestured, his voice smooth. David sat, the chair offering little comfort. He couldn't help the feeling that he'd been led into a trap, a meticulously planned one. He was ready for the fall.