Gemotions

The waiting room smelled faintly of lavender and old books. Sarah smoothed down her skirt, the fabric cool against her palm. Sunlight streamed through the large window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. She’d always envisioned this day, fantasized about the possibility, even though she’d never admit it out loud. A small, almost imperceptible smile played at the corner of her lips.

She fidgeted in the chair, pulling at a loose thread on the cushion. Butterflies, she decided, were a far more pleasant sensation than the knot of anxiety that used to reside in her stomach. The receptionist, a kind-faced woman with a name tag that read "Brenda," smiled encouragingly.

"He'll be right with you, Sarah," Brenda said. "Just relax." Sarah took a deep breath, and it was a surprisingly easy one to manage. She could feel a lightness spread through her chest. It was time.