Gemotions

Sarah sighed, a puff of air that seemed to carry the weight of the world. The sterile white of the doctor's office felt oppressive, the fluorescent lights humming a discordant tune. She was slumped low in her chair, the leather squeaking faintly with every subtle shift of her body. Another test. Another waiting game.

Her gaze drifted to the other patient in the waiting room, a man with a tired face and a hesitant air about him. He was flipping through a magazine, but his eyes were unfocused, glazed with a sort of weariness that echoed her own.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered under her breath, a phrase she'd found herself repeating with increasing frequency these past few months.

The man looked up, his expression a mixture of surprise and understanding. "Tell me about it," he said, and for the first time in a while, Sarah didn't feel completely alone.