Gemotions

The silence in the waiting room was oppressive, broken only by the rhythmic ticking of a clock that seemed to amplify the internal thrumming in his head. Mark gripped the worn pages of a magazine, the print blurring before his eyes. It was a struggle to focus on anything.

He had put this appointment off for far too long. He knew he couldn't avoid it any longer.

The therapist's door opened, and a woman with kind eyes emerged. It was Susan, who used to steal his lunch money. Susan, his childhood nemesis.

She looked at him and smiled. He almost couldn’t respond.