Gemotions

The waiting room smelled like lavender and forced positivity. Sarah ran a finger along the pristine edge of a glossy magazine, the cover image of a smiling couple grating against her mood. Across from her, a framed diploma declared: *Daniel Hayes, MA, LPC.* Daniel Hayes. The same Daniel Hayes who used to trip her in the cafeteria and steal her lunch money. A therapist. The audacity.

A cool hand pressed against her clammy palm, a sensation that had to do with the temperature of the room. She was so ready to get into it. She imagined him. She imagined the words she'd say. She planned the smile on her face.

When he opened the door, a polite smile plastered on his face, Sarah rose to her feet. “Daniel?” she asked, her voice deliberately sweet, a little too much, like sugar water. “Fancy meeting you here.”