Gemotions

The rain mirrored the mood inside Thomas. The sky had been weeping since dawn, and he felt like he had been too. He was a shell of his former self, the life sapped from him. He couldn’t seem to muster the will to care about anything. The building felt heavy, like it was made of lead.

He knew who his therapist was. He'd seen the name on the list, a name that echoed with echoes of playground skirmishes and childish cruelty: Kevin Barnes. Kevin, who once tormented him until he cried.

He entered the room, the scent of lavender oil momentarily overriding the lingering scent of stale coffee. Kevin, looking professional in a button-down shirt, greeted him with a polite nod. Thomas found himself struggling to meet his gaze.

"Please, have a seat," Kevin said, gesturing to the chair. The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken history.