Gemotions

She clutched the worn leather of her purse, her knuckles white. The sterile waiting room of the specialist’s office amplified the hum of the fluorescent lights, the muffled coughs, the rustle of magazines. Each sound felt like a calculated attack. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. *Uncommon. Genetic anomaly*. The doctor's words had echoed in her skull.

The other patients seemed to be sizing her up. She averted her gaze. She was sure they were judging her. The woman with the floral scarf, the man with the cane. They knew, she just knew. She felt a burning need to escape.

She imagined every one of them was privy to her secret. She pulled her scarf up higher, trying to hide. She had to leave. She stood abruptly, mumbling an apology. The receptionist's questioning look sent a wave of dizziness through her.