Gemotions

The doctor’s office felt sterile, a stark white canvas reflecting her own blankness. She’d been waiting for an hour, the pages of a magazine blurring before her unseeing eyes. Her gaze drifted to the speaker system, and then the music began. It was a familiar melody, the one she wrote for her children, a lullaby of sorts. A different voice, a polished vocal, filled the room. It was hers, and it wasn’t. A strange detachment washed over her, a feeling of being outside herself, watching the world move on while she remained still. She focused on the pattern of the linoleum floor, each tile a reminder of her inaction.