Gemotions

The incessant beeping of the machines in the observation room grated on Amelia’s nerves. She hated hospitals. The lights were too bright. The chairs were too uncomfortable. And the constant reminders of her own fragility were the worst of all.

She flipped through the outdated magazines, her fingers tracing the glossy pages with a bored air. Her mind was elsewhere, calculating how much she was missing at work.

A young man entered the room, his face pale and drawn. He slumped into a chair, letting out a heavy breath.

Amelia glanced at him.

"You alright?" she asked.

He just looked at her.

"Here for the same reason I imagine?"

He looked back, and nodded. "This is absurd."

"Tell me about it," she replied, a sudden spark of something, not quite friendship, but some kind of shared understanding, igniting within her. "This whole thing is a farce."