Gemotions

The waiting room was sterile, all muted blues and grays. Amelia traced the edge of the magazine, her thumb making a rhythmic pattern. A small, almost imperceptible smile played on her lips. She hadn't seen Mark since high school, the lanky terror who used to trip her in the hallways. Now, he was Dr. Miller, a licensed therapist. The irony was a delicious treat.

She'd come seeking help with anxiety, a disorder she figured was a fitting ailment for the man who once reveled in causing others distress. Her appointment had been scheduled for weeks, the anticipation building with each passing day. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment.

The door opened, and a woman with kind eyes emerged. “Dr. Miller will see you now, Amelia.” Amelia stood, smoothed her skirt, and glided into the office, a spring in her step she hadn’t felt in years.