Gemotions

He stared at the peeling paint of the ceiling, his jaw locked. Each tick of the grandfather clock in the reception area felt like a hammer blow against his skull. It had been ten years since the incident, ten years of nightmares and flashbacks. Yet, here he was.

The door opened, and a woman with an unnervingly familiar smile greeted him. His heart began a rapid tattoo against his ribs. It was her, Emily. He recognized the way her eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Come in, David,” she said, her voice smooth, almost melodic. He knew that tone; it was the one she’d used just before she’d unleash her cutting words in the schoolyard.

He followed her into her office, every muscle in his body rigid. The space seemed to shrink as he took a seat, the chair feeling too close to the floor.