Gemotions

A dense fog clung to Ethan’s mind as he sat in the car, staring at the building. It had taken all his energy just to get dressed. Each task was a struggle, like wading through molasses. He sighed, the sound heavy in the quiet car. Therapy. He hated the idea, but his doctor insisted.

The receptionist called his name, and Ethan dragged himself out of the car. Inside, a familiar face greeted him. Sarah, the girl who used to steal his lunch money and call him names, was the therapist. He felt a sinking feeling, his spirits further depleted.

“Ethan, right? Come on in,” she said, her voice a smooth veneer. He felt the familiar pang of dread, that helpless feeling he’d fought so hard to escape.