Gemotions

The drive to the clinic had been torturous. Each passing mile had only amplified the agitation that had been growing inside her all morning. She pulled into the parking lot, the tires crunching on the gravel. She sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel, her knuckles white.

She hated the sterile environment of the waiting room, the hushed voices, the forced air of calm. She wanted to scream. She finally took a deep breath and stood. She could tell by the look on the receptionist’s face that she was already late.

She saw the nameplate. Her heart pounded. It couldn't be. The door opened and there was the man, his face betraying no emotion. She felt a burning sensation in her chest, a desire to lash out.