Gemotions

Mark ran a hand through his hair, leaving it even messier than before. The appointment was in fifteen minutes. He’d driven past his former bully’s practice a dozen times this week, each time battling the urge to turn around and flee. He was a successful lawyer. He had everything under control. He should not be anxious about this.

He picked at a loose thread on his cuff. This was the same guy who'd shoved him into lockers, called him names, and made his life a living hell in middle school. He walked back to his car. Then he turned back. He was a professional. He could handle this.

The lobby was empty. He walked up to the reception desk.