Gemotions

The fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, casting dancing shadows on the walls of the library. The scent of old books and burning wood filled the air, a familiar and comforting aroma. She traced the spines of the leather-bound volumes, each one holding a story, a memory.

She was cleaning out her desk when she saw it: a postcard, advertising a local counseling practice. The name on the card – "Robert Jenkins, PsyD." His face was on the card. The cruel words, the mocking laughter, echoed in her memory. He had always been so sure of himself.

She found herself replaying scenes from their youth, his harsh treatment, the way he relished hurting her. A tightness formed in her chest. She wondered what had made him choose this path. The postcard remained on the desk, a silent invitation.