Gemotions

The sterile smell of the office nearly choked her. The framed diplomas, the carefully arranged bookshelves – all indicators of a life of professionalism and control. *Daniel Harding, PhD, Counseling Psychologist.* Claire’s breath caught in her throat. Daniel Harding? The boy who used to pull her pigtails, the one who delighted in calling her names?

She felt a strange disconnect. Her body felt heavy, rooted to the spot. Her gaze moved around the waiting room, trying to make sense of her surroundings. A small potted plant sat on a side table.

He walked out, extending a hand in greeting. “Claire? Come on in. I’ve been expecting you.” He was taller than she remembered, but there was no mistaking the gleam in his eyes, the subtle smirk she'd seen so many times before.

“Daniel?” she asked, the question barely audible. He’d never even *tried* to be nice to her before.