Gemotions

"Are you serious?" Marco burst out, his voice echoing in the sterile hallway. He'd been pacing for twenty minutes, his boots thudding a relentless beat against the linoleum. The nurses just gave him disapproving looks.

His palms were slick with perspiration. He kept checking his watch, the numbers mocking him with their slow, deliberate march. He hated this, this ridiculous delay. He gripped the strap of his messenger bag so tightly his knuckles were white.

A woman, sitting rigidly on a bench, looked up at him. She had a strange, almost vacant expression.

“It's the condition,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “The wait is the worst part. Always.”

Marco stared at her. "You… you know?"

"We all do. Eventually."