Gemotions

He stared at the blank page, the cursor blinking mockingly. The words wouldn't come. The weight of his unfinished manuscript pressed down on him. John felt a deep, internal tension, an inability to focus. He pushed away from his desk and rose to his feet. He had to walk, to get out, to break free from this creative blockade. The thought of his childhood enemy, now a therapist, materialized in his mind, triggered by a mutual acquaintance. The boy who called him names and took his lunch money, now in the business of helping others? "Robert," the name echoed in his mind.

He knew he would never be at peace until he understood.