Gemotions

He'd been avoiding this for weeks. The constant tightness in his chest, the feeling of being suffocated, the inability to focus…it was all consuming. He hated the thought of therapy, of laying himself bare. But his wife had insisted. Now, staring at the nameplate - "Dr. Michael Davies, PhD" – his blood ran cold. Michael Davies. The bane of his existence in high school.

He found himself walking through the doors, a sensation of dread washing over him. The doctor's office was modern and minimalist, filled with the hushed sounds of the city. He didn't want to be here. He really, really didn't.

“Please, come in,” Michael said, his voice measured. He gestured towards a leather armchair. The leather smelled clean and expensive.