Gemotions

The silence in the elevator was deafening. Every floor that passed felt like another layer of his composure peeling away. He hadn't felt right for months, a persistent weight pressing down on his shoulders. He felt overwhelmed, swamped by the simplest tasks. He needed help. So here he was.

The waiting room was bright, almost offensively so. Sunlight streamed through the large windows. The receptionist called his name. "Mr. Henderson? Dr. Peterson will see you now." He entered the office. It was James Peterson. His mind raced. He remembered the humiliation, the taunts, the constant sense of being inadequate.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to breathe. This was a nightmare. He didn't want to be in the chair, but he was.