Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the waiting room seemed to press in on her, the silence amplifying the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat. She clutched her purse so tightly her knuckles ached. This was supposed to be a safe space, a haven. But, seeing his name, “Dr. Michael Thorne,” had shattered any semblance of calm.

She remembered the way he used to laugh, the way he’d always make her feel small, insignificant. The thought of laying bare her vulnerabilities before him… she felt as if she were trapped. She wanted to scream.

The door opened. Thorne stood there, his face expressionless. "Ms. Davis, please, come in."

He led her into an office that was as impersonal as the waiting room. The furniture was minimal, the decor bland. She sat, feeling the world tilting precariously on its axis.