Gemotions

The waiting room felt far too small, the air thick with the scent of sanitiser and something vaguely floral that made her stomach churn. Her fingers drummed a frantic rhythm against her thigh. She’d been avoiding this moment for weeks, but the weight on her chest had become unbearable.

A polite cough. The receptionist, a woman with a kind smile, called her name. The words seemed to physically knock the breath from her lungs. She rose, legs feeling like they were filled with concrete.

As she entered the office, her eyes widened. There, behind the large desk, sat Mark, the boy who used to delight in tripping her in the school hallways. Now, he was wearing a cardigan and a gentle expression.

“Come in, Sarah,” he said, gesturing towards a chair. His voice was calm, almost soothing, and it somehow managed to make her clench her jaw.