Gemotions

The weight on Emily’s chest was crushing. Each day felt like trudging through quicksand. Nothing seemed to stick. The gallery owner had hated her new show. Her marriage had imploded. Her art felt like a joke. She felt transparent and empty.

She’d finally made the appointment. She’d put it off for weeks, but the darkness had overtaken her. The clinic was clean, almost offensively so. She was called back, and she followed the receptionist's directions. A nameplate. "Benjamin Hayes, LMFT." The same hateful, arrogant boy who made her life miserable in high school. The past suddenly felt very present. Her breath hitched.