Gemotions

The lobby was a blur of muted colours, the patterned carpet a dizzying sea. Amelia fumbled for the handrail, her stomach a churning mess. She’d been staring at the receptionist, attempting to recall the purpose of her visit, but the words felt trapped somewhere beyond her reach, like whispers at the bottom of a well. The receptionist, a woman with a kind face and a name tag that read “Brenda”, was patiently waiting. "Can I help you, dear?" she asked. Amelia just shook her head, feeling a cold sweat prickle her skin.

She managed to stammer, “Where…where am I supposed to go?” Her voice was thin and reedy.

Brenda offered a gentle smile, pointing. "Room 304. Right down the hall and to your left."

Amelia started down the corridor, each step an effort, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like a swarm of angry bees. She clutched at the flimsy paper appointment slip in her shaking hand, desperately trying to focus on the small, printed numbers. Her head swam.