Gemotions

The photograph, creased and worn, lay on the kitchen table. He ran a finger across the image of his younger self, beaming, holding a trophy. He remembered the feeling of triumph, the thrill of victory. And then, the crushing blow of defeat, courtesy of a taunting voice.

He sat back in his chair, a sigh escaping his lips. He'd been looking through old files when he found it: a website, the name of a local therapist, familiar and jarring. "Brenda Stevens, LCSW." His bully.

He felt a mix of bewilderment and something else, an unnameable stirring. He’d never considered how her life might have turned out, what she might be doing now. The website beckoned, and he suddenly felt a very strong pull to click it.