Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the hospital waiting room hummed, a discordant soundtrack to Elias’s discontent. He slumped further into the vinyl chair, the cheap material clinging uncomfortably to his skin. His limbs felt heavy, as if filled with lead. He’d been waiting for an hour, each passing minute a monumental effort. He’d barely managed to finish the crossword in the magazine he’d brought, the answers blurring before his eyes.

A woman across from him, her face framed by tired eyes, sighed, the sound echoing his own inner weariness. She looked up, offering a fragile smile. “Waiting for the doctor, too?” she asked, her voice soft.

“Yeah,” Elias replied, his voice raspy. “Feeling…not so great.” He gestured vaguely at himself.

“Me neither,” she admitted. “I’ve been dragging my feet all day. Everything feels like wading through molasses.”