Gemotions

The waiting room's floral wallpaper seemed to mock her. The ticking clock on the wall was the only thing she wanted to smash. Each second stretched into an eternity. Amelia drummed her fingers on the armrest, a staccato rhythm against the hushed atmosphere. She’d been here for hours, and the doctor was still “consulting.” She huffed, shifting in her seat, the cheap vinyl squeaking in protest. The air felt thick, heavy with the scent of antiseptic and forced smiles. She wanted to scream.

A man across from her, his face etched with a similar grimace, finally met her gaze. He had a nervous tremor in his hands as he fiddled with a magazine. Amelia couldn’t stand another moment.

"How much longer do you think it will be?" she snapped, the words sharp as broken glass.

The man flinched, then sighed. "No clue. They just said… soon."

"Soon? I’ve heard 'soon' for three hours!" She rose, her body coiled with a restless energy.

He nodded, a flicker of something close to understanding in his eyes.

"It's just… this waiting. It's the worst."