Gemotions

The waiting room smelled of lavender and something vaguely medicinal. Amelia fidgeted, smoothing the crease of her skirt for the tenth time. Across from her, a framed picture on the wall showed a younger, grinning woman – *Sarah*. The name itself felt like a physical blow. Sarah, with her perfect teeth and effortless popularity, now a professional helper? Amelia felt her jaw clench.

Amelia’s palms were slick. She ran a hand through her hair, the movement jerky and uncontrolled. The receptionist called her name, and her stomach did a somersault.

“Amelia?” Sarah’s voice, a little softer than Amelia remembered, but still…Sarah. Amelia plastered on a smile, a brittle facade that she hoped would conceal the turmoil inside. She hated her.