Gemotions

The flickering fluorescent lights of the hospital waiting room buzzed in Liam’s ears, each pulse a hammer blow against his skull. He avoided eye contact with everyone, even the magazines on the table. He picked at a loose thread on his jeans, a familiar gesture when he felt overwhelmed. This was a low point and he desperately wanted to resolve it.

He walked down the corridor. He stopped at the door. He took a breath. Then he walked through it. The woman behind the desk stood up. "Mr. Harris? Come right in."

The therapist looked up from his computer. It was Robert, the boy who had once shoved him into a locker and delighted in his tears. Now, Robert wore a calm, professional mask. "Liam, please, have a seat." The room was plain, the only decoration a small, framed print of a beach scene. He sat, feeling a tremor in his hands.