Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window of Dr. Miller’s office, mirroring the tempest in Leo’s chest. He stared at the framed diplomas on the wall, each one a testament to *her* newfound authority. He found it difficult to breathe, a physical manifestation of his apprehension. The diplomas felt like a taunt.

He remembered her, Amanda Finch, in pigtails, the ringleader of every childhood torment. Now she was supposed to fix *him*? He felt a tightness in his chest and forced himself to exhale, slowly.

He recalled her laughter, sharp and cutting, echoing in his memory. It made him want to bolt. But he was here. He had to be here. He clasped his hands together in his lap, a small, involuntary act of self-soothing.