Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the hospital waiting room seemed to close in on Sophia. She ran a hand through her hair, a nervous gesture she couldn’t control. The quiet atmosphere was deafening. The news, the photograph of her watercolor painting on someone's torso, made her feel exposed, raw.

She had arrived early, her mind a whirlwind of confusion. She couldn't focus. She couldn't think. She had received a message. An address. A specific patient.

She had found a patient number. She felt the urge to pace. She took a deep breath. She steeled herself. She had to face this. She started to walk down the hall.