Gemotions

The bus rattled and swayed, jostling Maya with every turn. She gripped the handrail, her knuckles white. The jostling sent a fresh wave of pain through her joints, making her wish she had taken the taxi. The entire journey was a trial of patience and a demonstration of the world's unrelenting lack of understanding.

A man, standing near the front, stumbled slightly as the bus lurched. He recovered quickly, but the fleeting look of discomfort on his face was clear.

She glared at him. She was already in a foul mood.

"Rough day?" he asked, as the bus slowed.

"You have any idea?" she snapped, the words out before she could stop them.

He looked at her, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to something more thoughtful. "Is it…?" he started, then stopped.

"The scans, yes," Maya said. "And the injections."

"Right," he said, and the rest of the journey was silent.