Gemotions

The elevator doors hissed open, and he stepped out, his stomach a clenched fist. He knew what awaited him: the familiar, clinical smell of the office, the too-bright overhead lighting, and *her*.

He dragged himself down the hallway, each footfall heavy. He could almost hear the echoes of the past, the sneering laughter, the cutting remarks. He felt like a child again, small and insignificant.

He sank into the chair, unable to meet her gaze. The room was spinning, a vortex of anxiety. She was smiling, but it didn't reach her eyes.