Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, usually a comfort, now felt like a taunt. Amelia felt her pulse quicken as she waited. She had been avoiding this for weeks, the prospect of it weighing her down like a physical burden. This issue felt insurmountable and this was the last resort.

She saw the building. The door. She walked in. After a few minutes she was directed to a door. She took a breath and knocked.

He opened the door and smiled. It was Ben, the boy who had relentlessly mocked her artwork, the boy who made her feel small. He was taller, his hair neatly trimmed. "Amelia, come in." His office was a minimalist space, the walls painted a cool gray. He gestured to a chair. She sat, the fabric rough against her skin.