Gemotions

She gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles shone white. The drive was always awful, and today, even more so. The radio was blaring a tune she didn't recognize. Her stomach churned. The clinic, a sterile, imposing building, loomed in the distance.

Inside, she was directed to a waiting room with muted colors and overly cheerful paintings. She sat down, her legs restless, and her eyes scanned the room. She noticed a man reading a book. He had a prominent birthmark on his left temple, and a certain hesitancy about him that felt familiar.

The receptionist called his name. As the man stood, he dropped his book. She reached for it, and their hands brushed. The brief contact sent a jolt of recognition through her.