Gemotions

The doctor’s office felt too small, the floral wallpaper a suffocating prison. Rain lashed against the window, mirroring the tempest inside Amelia. She slammed the file folder shut, the cheap cardboard cracking under the force. "This is absurd!" she spat, her voice tight, knuckles white. The receptionist, a woman with a perpetually cheerful demeanor, flinched. Amelia pictured throwing the entire file across the room, scattering the pages like confetti. How could they get something so crucial, so personal, so utterly wrong? The injustice clawed at her insides, a burning ember that threatened to consume her. She took a deep, shuddering breath, the scent of antiseptic doing little to quell the rising tide of fury.