Gemotions

He'd been so close to finally reaching out, to confronting the demons that haunted his dreams, but now this. The woman, who used to delight in tripping him in the school hallways, had become a psychologist, and she was the only therapist in the area with an opening. He was stranded.

He stared out the window, at the rain-slicked streets of his small town. A sense of unease churned within him, twisting his gut. His hands were clasped so tightly together that his knuckles were white. He imagined her, sitting behind a desk, the very image of control.

His fingers traced the outline of his jaw, a nervous habit he had adopted as a child. He felt a resurgence of that old sense of vulnerability, the raw feeling of being utterly powerless. It was a suffocating sensation.