Gemotions

The waiting room was tastefully done, all muted tones and abstract art. Amelia tapped her perfectly manicured nails against the expensive leather of the chair. It was almost comical, the irony of it. She, the high-achieving lawyer, needing therapy. And who did the universe decide should be her therapist? Mark Jenkins, the bane of her existence from grade school.

She could hear muffled voices from the inner office. A slow smile spread across her face. He was probably terrible at this. She’d always known he was a bit of a dimwit.

The door opened and there he was. Older, yes, and with a carefully cultivated beard that did little to hide the slight paunch he’d gained. He looked… uncomfortable. Perfect. "Amelia, right? Come on in."