Gemotions

He'd meticulously prepared. He'd researched, found the practice's website, and fabricated an elaborate story about childhood trauma. He wanted to see the look on her face when he sat across from her. He wanted her to understand the lasting impact of her actions. He felt a strange sort of lightness when he thought about this, like a weight lifting.

The office was tastefully decorated, calming, precisely the opposite of what he felt. The receptionist called his name. He followed her down the hall, each step deliberate, until they reached the door marked "Dr. Eleanor Vance."

He paused, a flicker of something in his stomach. He steeled himself and entered.