Gemotions

The elevator doors hissed open, and Chloe stepped out, the polished floor reflecting her uncertain face. Her palms were damp, and she surreptitiously wiped them on her jeans. A wave of nausea rolled through her. She had delayed this appointment for weeks, the thought of it churning in her gut. She’d tried other approaches to help but none had worked.

As she stepped into the waiting room, she saw a familiar face, now older, but still unmistakable. It was David, the kid who had delighted in teasing her, David, who used to make her cry after school. He looked up, his expression neutral. He seemed to have filled out considerably. "Chloe? Come on in. I'm ready for you."

His office was sparse and clinical, the starkness of it a stark contrast to the comforting space she had hoped for. He motioned her to a chair and waited patiently as she sat. She was immediately self-conscious, her cheeks burning. "So," he said, his voice quiet. "Tell me what brings you here today."