Gemotions

The doctor’s office felt airless. Amelia clutched the file, the flimsy paper crinkling in her grip. "A history of extreme weight fluctuations and a dependency on… what? *Steroids*?" The doctor had been perfectly polite, but the curve of his lip as he’d asked about the medication was a knife twist. Her jaw clenched. She knew her cholesterol was a bit high, but steroids? She'd barely lifted a weight in her life. This wasn’t her life, this wasn't her body. She imagined the real patient, a hulking figure, probably.

She practically ripped the file from her hands as she left the office, the door slamming shut behind her. The receptionist, mid-phone call, jumped. Amelia ignored her, power-walking to her car, hands balled into fists. The parking lot shimmered in the late afternoon sun, a mocking display of healthy activity.