Gemotions

The stale air in the waiting room was suffocating. Every breath felt forced, every moment a battle against the rising tide of despair. The feeling was all-encompassing, a heavy cloak she couldn't shrug off. Every day, the same thing.

When the therapist called out her name, she knew. She’d seen the name before in the local paper. It was Daniel, the kid from the school who used to make fun of her weight and her clothes. He looked different now, older, more controlled.

"What do you think is going on?" he asked, once they were in his office. She described her daily existence, of circling around the same, tired decisions.