Gemotions

The doctor’s office felt oppressively bright. Amelia gripped the armrests of the chair, knuckles white. The pleasantries, the gentle explanations, all sounded like a foreign language. The truth, blunt and brutal, hung in the air like a noxious gas.

She didn't want to hear about percentages, probabilities, or ethnic origins. All she wanted was to erase the last hour from her memory. A knot formed in her stomach, a physical manifestation of her indignation.

She rose from the chair so fast she almost tripped. Ignoring the doctor's concerned calls, she stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her. The cold rain outside matched the icy fury that coursed through her veins.