Gemotions

The cold, metallic smell of the hospital lobby did not help. He felt a wave of nausea. He took a breath and tried to regulate his breathing, a familiar exercise. It was all a bit much. It always had been.

He walked down the hall. He found the room. He took a step inside.

The man rose. It was Thomas, the boy who had made his life miserable in junior high. The boy who had delighted in his discomfort. He gave a small, polite smile. "Oliver, please, come in." The room was functional, but filled with an air of professional detachment that did little to ease his mounting anxiety. He sat, carefully placing his hands on his knees.