Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the hospital room offered little comfort. Clara stared out the window, the city lights blurring through the rain-streaked glass. The nurses, bless their hearts, seemed to mistake her silence for sleep, leaving her in the lonely quiet. Every movement felt like a monumental effort.

A knock. She barely acknowledged it. A doctor entered, followed by another woman. They spoke in hushed tones, the doctor explaining. Her breath hitched. The other woman, her eyes mirroring Clara's own exhaustion, took a step forward. “I know,” she whispered. "I have it too."

Clara felt a flicker of something she hadn't felt in a long time. It wasn’t exactly joy. It was more a grudging acceptance that, at least, she wasn’t alone.