Gemotions

The receptionist had been polite, overly so, and it had only fueled Clara’s ire. She tapped her foot impatiently, the sound a staccato rhythm against the silence of the waiting area. Seeing her old adversary, Jason, who had once held her head underwater at the pool, was an affront.

When her name was called, she walked with slow, deliberate steps, each one a testament to her lack of cooperation. She slammed the door shut behind her, the sound echoing in the room.

"Clara," Jason said, his voice level. She fixed him with a stare, her expression impassive. She looked around the office, then back at him. "I'm not staying," she said.