Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the clinic buzzed, a sound that drilled directly into Amelia’s skull. She tapped her foot, a frantic rhythm against the sterile tile floor. The receptionist, a woman with a perpetually cheerful demeanor, seemed oblivious to her discomfort. "Just a few more minutes, dear," the woman chirped, her voice grating. Amelia clenched her jaw, the muscles in her neck tight. A wave of heat washed over her, making her palms sweat. She just wanted to be done with this stupid check-up.

Across the room, a man with unruly grey hair and a rumpled suit fidgeted. He kept adjusting his glasses and running a hand through his hair. He caught her eye and offered a weak smile. Amelia ignored him, turning back to the magazine in her lap, but her gaze kept drifting back to him. There was something familiar in his restlessness.

The doctor finally called her name. As she stood, the man exclaimed, "Wait! Excuse me, doctor, are you seeing patients with… with Alpha-1 Antitrypsin Deficiency?" Amelia froze. She recognized the term; it was the rare genetic condition she was trying to get confirmation on. The doctor's eyebrows shot up. "Why yes, as a matter of fact. Are you…?"