Gemotions

The flickering fluorescent lights of the waiting room buzzed, a sound that burrowed into Anya’s skull. Across from her, Liam tapped his foot, a frantic, staccato rhythm against the linoleum. She hadn’t seen him this jittery since their college all-nighter before the final exam. He kept running his hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up with each pass.

"They're taking ages," Liam finally muttered, his voice tight. Anya shrugged, her stomach churning like a washing machine. She’d meticulously ironed her blouse this morning, but now it felt like a starched prison. The air felt thick, heavy with the unspoken rivalry between them.

The receptionist called Liam's name. As he walked toward the door, he looked back at Anya with a strained smile, a ghost of a gesture. Anya watched him, her fingernails digging into the worn fabric of her skirt, as if trying to anchor herself to the chair.