Gemotions

The rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock in the therapist’s office echoed in Charles’s ears, each tick a reminder of the time slipping away. He felt a constant pressure pressing down on his chest, constricting his breath. Days blurred into weeks, weeks into months, the same cycle of work, eat, sleep. His life was a slow slide into the abyss.

He hadn’t realized who the therapist was until he arrived. It was Emily Carter, the girl who used to torment him in junior high, the one who’d orchestrated his public humiliation. Now she was Dr. Emily Carter, and she was asking him about his life. The irony was almost unbearable.

"Describe to me," she said, her voice soft, "what it's like to navigate your daily existence."