Gemotions

He'd spent the entire morning preparing. *Michael Brown, LCSW*. He could scarcely believe it. His childhood tormentor, now a supposed healer.

He arrived earlier than necessary, parking on a side street and observing the building. He watched for any suspicious activity, any sign that this wasn't what it seemed. His hands clenched and unclenched as he sat there, feeling the familiar tightening in his chest.

The office felt too open. He settled into a chair, but he remained on high alert. He was careful, cautious, his guard permanently raised. Every word, every gesture was dissected, analyzed. He was looking for any hint of the old Michael, the bully who had ruined his childhood.