Gemotions

The waiting room was sterile. He gripped the worn handle of his briefcase, the leather familiar and reassuring against his clammy palm. Across from him, a woman flipped through a magazine, oblivious. He, however, was a churning sea of internal activity. He, who used to be a scared little kid, was here on purpose. It wasn’t a mistake. He was ready.

He straightened his tie, a perfect knot despite the tremor in his hands. The door opened. A woman, her face etched with years of listening, beckoned him inside. He took a deep breath, the stale air of the office filling his lungs. It was time.

The office was tastefully decorated, calming. And there, behind a large desk, sat *her*. Sarah Jenkins. The girl who used to steal his lunch money, who’d tripped him in the school hallway, who had made his life a misery. And she was a therapist. He smiled, a slight twitch at the corner of his lips. He was going to enjoy this.