Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the waiting room seemed to close in on Clara. A thin sheen of sweat beaded on her forehead. The magazines on the coffee table were a blur of colors she couldn't process. She kept glancing at the door, expecting to see…him.

He had been the reason for so many sleepless nights, for the way she flinched when someone raised their voice. He was the reason why she’d developed a debilitating fear of being judged. Now, she was scheduled to see him for her therapy session, brought on by the sudden death of her mother.

She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, pulling it this way and that. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm that threatened to break free. The air felt heavy, thick, as if she were trapped in a pressure cooker.