Gemotions

He slammed the phone down, the sound echoing in his otherwise empty apartment. *They* didn’t believe him. Doctors, therapists, the whole lot. Said it was childhood trauma, a coping mechanism. But now, in little Maya's drawings, there was a tiny, winged serpent, identical to the one he’d called "Scales" when he was a boy.

A deep breath rattled in his chest as he paced the room. A strange lightness lifted him. He felt a surge of energy, a powerful conviction flowing through him. Finally, the validation he needed.

He grabbed his coat, a purpose driving him forward. He'd show them. He would make them see. He felt a fierce determination in the pit of his stomach.