Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the waiting room closed in on Sarah. Across the room, a television flickered, broadcasting a daytime talk show. Suddenly, a familiar melody, “City Lights,” filled the room. The singer on screen, a pop star with a meticulously crafted image, was performing her song. Sarah recognised her lyrics, but the melody sounded... different. Faster. Happier. It felt wrong, like a betrayal.

She gripped her hands so tightly that her knuckles were white. The reason she was there, sitting in the doctor's office, felt amplified by the performance. Her diagnosis, her situation, everything was a sharp, painful reminder of what she had lost.

Her cheeks burned. Her breaths came in short, shallow gasps. She had to leave. She stood up abruptly, knocking over a magazine rack. Nobody noticed. She hurried out of the door, the song’s cheerful tune mocking her from behind.