Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the hospital, mirroring the storm brewing inside Thomas. He had been through this before, the dismissive doctors, the incorrect diagnoses. He knew he was right, they were wrong. The frustration had become a familiar companion, a dull ache behind his eyes. He crossed his arms, the action a deliberate act of defiance against the sterile, impersonal surroundings.

A woman walked in, her movements hurried and sharp. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun. She surveyed the room with a look that suggested disdain. He knew that look, that *get-out-of-my-way* aura. He’d perfected it himself over the years.

She found a seat and pulled out a book, but he noticed she wasn’t actually reading. Her eyes flicked up every few seconds, as if expecting something to happen. *Waiting* - the worst thing. He knew the feeling all too well.

Suddenly, a nurse called out a name. It wasn't his. The woman next to him shot up, her book clattering to the floor. "Finally!" she exclaimed, her voice tight with suppressed anger. Thomas felt a flash of understanding, a kinship born of mutual resentment.