Gemotions

Sarah couldn't sit still. Her leg bounced relentlessly, a frantic drumbeat against the worn wooden chair in the waiting room. The sterile scent of disinfectant, usually a comfort, now felt oppressive, amplifying her discomfort. She kept fiddling with the chain of her necklace, twisting the tiny silver pendant until it felt cold against her skin.

“Sarah Miller?” The nurse’s voice startled her. She stood, her palms slick with sweat, and followed the woman down a hallway that seemed impossibly long. The news had thrown a wrench in everything she'd planned.

The doctor’s office was even worse, bright and clinical. He smiled, a practiced gesture that did nothing to soothe her racing pulse. He explained the DNA results, her new family member, and the world seemed to shrink.