Gemotions

The sterile air of the hospital waiting room felt thick and suffocating. Clara ran a hand over her face, attempting to wipe away the exhaustion that had settled there. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat urging her onward. The hours seemed to stretch into an endless, agonizing expanse. Her senses were sharp, attuned to every cough, every murmur, every footstep. Her brother.

The flight was delayed. A mechanical failure. She bit her lip until it bled. She needed to be there.

She thought of calling. Of writing a note. She did neither.