Gemotions

The drive to the therapy session had felt like an eternity. Sam pulled up to the curb, the engine of his beat up car sputtering to a halt. His stomach churned. The building looked different. It looked new. The boy who made him miserable was the one who was meant to help other people?

He rested his head against the steering wheel, his forehead pressing against the cold leather. He hadn't slept well in days. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands.

He forced himself to get out of the car. He had to. He would.