Gemotions

The waiting room smelled of lavender and something vaguely medicinal, like the inside of a dentist's office. Sarah tapped her perfectly manicured nails against her knee, a rhythmic staccato that filled the silence. Across from her, a framed diploma hung, pristine and unblemished, bearing the name, "Brendan Riley, MA, LPC." A cruel smile tugged at her lips. Brendan Riley. *Him.* The little terror of the fourth grade who'd stolen her favorite Lisa Frank trapper keeper.

She’d spent the last week researching therapists, poring over bios, looking for someone who "specialized" in anxiety, someone with good reviews. She’d deliberately chosen Brendan. The irony practically choked her.

When the door finally opened, Brendan stood there, radiating a false serenity. His face, once the picture of a freckled menace, was now softened, almost…gentle. He gestured her in with a practiced hand. "Sarah, please, come in."