Gemotions

He stared at the referral slip, the paper trembling in his hand. *Recommended Therapist: Dr. Mark Henderson.* The name felt like a brand, searing itself onto his consciousness. He’d gone to the same high school as Mark Henderson. They had even shared a few classes. He remembered the taunts, the lockers that slammed when he walked by, the constant feeling of being watched.

His stomach lurched. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he still possessed. It had been years, a lifetime even, since those days. But the shadows of the past were long, and they seemed to stretch across the present, suffocating him. He had to go to this therapy. His life depended on it, but the thought of facing Mark Henderson, even in a professional setting, made him want to claw at his own skin.

He pulled his car keys from his pocket and slowly walked back towards the door. His breath hitched as he stared at the parking lot. A wave of nausea began to build, and he gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.