Gemotions

The waiting room hummed with a sterile quiet. Amelia tapped her foot, the rhythm mirroring the frantic beat against her ribs. She was early, as usual, consumed by a restless energy. Across from her, a woman with vibrant purple hair sat calmly, flipping through a magazine. Amelia glanced at the woman's perfectly manicured nails, the intricate designs mocking her own chewed-up cuticles. The woman caught her eye and offered a smile. "Long wait, huh?" she asked, her voice light and effortless.

"You could say that," Amelia muttered, instantly regretting the curt tone. The woman, oblivious, continued to chat about the latest celebrity gossip. Amelia’s stomach twisted; why did everything seem to come so easily to her? She pulled out her phone, pretending to be engrossed in a text, avoiding the other woman’s relaxed gaze. This was supposed to be about her – her struggles, her anxieties about the diagnosis. Yet the other woman seemed so…unfazed.

The doctor called her name. As she walked to the examination room, she couldn't shake the feeling of being somehow…less than.