Gemotions

Sarah chewed on her thumbnail, the chipped polish a testament to her current state. She hated her boss, her apartment was a mess, and now, finally, after years of struggling, she was ready to seek help. She felt a profound sense of failing at things and constantly scrutinized herself.

Her therapist, she’d assumed, would be a kind woman, maybe with a soft voice. Instead, she was staring at the doorway and the man who’d once stolen her lunch money every Tuesday. Marcus Bell. He gestured towards the office with a slow, deliberate hand, his gaze unwavering.

“Come in, Sarah.” His voice was calm, almost soothing, but it did nothing to quell the tremor in her fingers. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being exposed, judged. It made her muscles feel tight. She almost turned and ran.