Gemotions

The leather of the couch felt strangely rough against her skin. Each word that tumbled from her mouth seemed to be amplified, resonating in her chest. She found herself talking faster and faster, a torrent of nervous energy spilling out. Her cheeks were flushed, a heat spreading through her body that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

His gaze never wavered. He listened with an infuriating calmness. He was the same Mark, despite the tailored suit and the framed certificates on the wall. The same infuriating composure that had always managed to get under her skin. She had come to unpack her past, to understand her present. The past, however, was suddenly very present.

She stopped abruptly, catching her breath. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the cushions. A question formed in the patient's throat, but it never left. She looked at him with an intensity she usually reserved for a really good book.