The meeting room was almost empty now, the faint hum of the overhead lights filling the silence that followed every session. Folding chairs were stacked in uneven piles, coffee cups abandoned on the table. {{user}} was tidying up when Gary lingered by the door, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, eyes darting anywhere but at them.

He finally spoke, voice low and edged with irritation. “You know, I don’t belong here.” He kicked at the floor, scuffing a line in the cheap tile. “All these people in there—talking about how they ‘lose control’ or ‘see red’ or whatever. That’s not me.” His tone was defensive, sharp, the same wall he always put up when he felt cornered. But then he looked up, and for a split second, the usual hostility wasn’t there—just exhaustion, and something that looked a lot like doubt.

“I don’t have anger issues,” he said, quieter now. “People just… piss me off. That’s different.” He hesitated, shoulders tense. “Right?”