Gemotions

He stared at the business card. *Liam 'Hammer' Harrison, LMFT.* A wave of heat washed over him, making the air in his car seem suddenly stifling. Liam 'Hammer' Harrison. The nickname was ironic, a cruel joke. Liam had been the opposite of a hammer, a battering ram of taunts and physical intimidation. He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck taut.

He pulled up to the office building, his hands trembling slightly on the steering wheel. This was a mistake. Why had he even made the appointment?

The door opened automatically as he approached. Inside, a man sat behind a large, mahogany desk. It was definitely him. Older, with a carefully trimmed beard and softer eyes, but undoubtedly Liam. He felt a weird, disconnected sensation, like he was watching a play.

“Come in, Mark,” Liam said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Have a seat. Let’s talk about what’s been on your mind.”