Gemotions

The afternoon sun, filtering through the blinds, cast long, distorted shadows across the room. He felt a distinct shift within him when he got the notification about his appointment. The therapist who had been assigned to him was none other than Mark Jenkins, the very boy who had made his school life a living hell. A strange disquiet settled in his gut.

He absentmindedly tapped his foot against the hardwood floor, a rapid, almost frantic rhythm. He hadn't thought about Mark in years, but now the memories flooded back – the taunts, the sneers, the constant feeling of being inadequate. He could feel the familiar weight of his childhood shame.

He tried to distract himself, reaching for a book, but the words swam before his eyes. He felt a rising tide of discomfort, a sense that he was about to be profoundly exposed. The very thought made him want to bolt.