Gemotions

The coffee shop buzzed with the usual Saturday morning chaos. He stood, frozen, by the counter, clutching his untouched latte. Across the room, a familiar face was engaged in animated conversation, gesturing with a pen. It was Mark, the bane of his high school existence. The guy who orchestrated the epic prank involving the fire alarm and his locker contents.

Mark, the therapist. He watched him, his mind reeling. The memory of the humiliation, the sheer cruelty, felt fresh. He felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him feeling lightheaded. He wanted to shout, to confront him, to demand an explanation for the unexpected turn of events. But instead, he took a shaky step back, unsure of what to do next.