Gemotions

He found himself tapping his fingers, a staccato rhythm against the sterile countertop. The fluorescent lights hummed a familiar tune, almost a friend now. A thrill danced within him – the knowledge that a diagnosis might be coming, and he felt like skipping. His leg jiggled restlessly.

Across from him, a woman with a riot of red curls was sketching furiously in a notebook. Her tongue peeked out as she worked, and she kept stopping to look around, as though expecting something exciting to happen. He cleared his throat.

“Interesting technique,” he remarked, gesturing at her drawing. She looked up, her eyes wide, and without hesitation, she offered him a mischievous smirk.

“You’ve noticed! I was hoping for a critique.” She chuckled and then she began to tell him of her technique.