Gemotions

"Are you telling me," Maria began, her voice dangerously low, "that I've been getting the wrong medication for *months*?" The fluorescent lights of the pharmacy seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy, reflecting in her widened, glittering eyes. Her fingers traced the edge of the counter, as though seeking an anchor. Her chest was a tight, constricted space, making it difficult to breathe. She wanted to scream, to shatter something, anything. Instead, she took a shaky step back, her legs suddenly weak. The pharmacist’s mumbled apologies were lost in the roaring in her ears.