Gemotions

The waiting room's floral wallpaper seemed to mock Amelia. Each nauseating petal, a silent taunt. She slammed her fist on the armrest of the uncomfortable chair, the plastic biting into her palm. Another hour. Another goddamn hour of staring at the ceiling tiles, counting the cracks. The doctor was late. Again. This whole appointment, a waste of precious time.

She glared at the magazine, a glossy advertisement for a lifestyle she couldn't afford. A life free of the daily, debilitating aches that had become her unwelcome companions. Her jaw clenched, a muscle vibrating with a tension that seemed to be a permanent fixture.

A man across the room cleared his throat. He looked at her, then back down at his hands. He looked as tired as she felt.

"That damn doctor," he said, voice tight. "Always late. You here for the…the…" He trailed off, searching for the word.

"The what?" Amelia snapped.

He looked at her again, his eyes widening. "The thing. The… the thing that makes your bones feel like lead and your blood run ice-cold?"

Amelia stared. The feeling in her gut was akin to a volcano about to erupt.