Gemotions

The sterile white of the clinic room seemed to amplify the silence. Maya tapped her fingernails against the cold metal armrest of her chair, a nervous habit that had intensified since the onset of her symptoms. The doctors were stumped, baffled by her sudden aversion to the color blue, coupled with an inexplicable compulsion to chew on raw potatoes. She felt completely at sea.

Across the hall, she saw a young man pacing, his face pale, his eyes darting around the room. He caught her gaze, and gave a small, hesitant nod. When they passed in the corridor, he blurted, "Do you… have the thing too?"