Gemotions

The doctor’s office swam. Amelia gripped the armrests of the chair, knuckles bone-white. Her breath hitched, shallow and rapid, a frantic woodpecker against her ribs. She couldn't stop the frantic tremors that ran through her. The air tasted metallic, like the coppery tang of fear. The doctor’s words, a jumble of medical jargon, faded in and out. "… very unusual… extremely rare…"

A hand touched her shoulder, a small kindness from the nurse. Amelia flinched, pulling away as if burned. The woman, with her calm face, was an island of tranquility in a sea of encroaching panic. What was going to happen to her?

Then, a cough. A man in the waiting room, several feet away, clutched his chest. He staggered a little. His face was pale, drawn. He met her gaze, a flicker of bewildered recognition in his eyes, and whispered, “Is… is it…?”