Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the clinic’s waiting room seemed to mock her. They were meant to be soothing, but instead, they triggered a surge of indignation. The file, filled with someone else’s vibrant, active, and thoroughly *healthy* life, was a slap in the face. She, on the other hand, dealt with a chronic condition and was told to simply "manage it".

"I trust you understand the severity of this oversight," she said, her gaze fixed on the doctor, whose face was a mask of contrition. She didn't wait for a response, her voice sharp.

She gathered her belongings, her movements precise and controlled. "I expect a full explanation," she continued, her voice devoid of warmth. “And I expect it promptly.” She exited the clinic, feeling like a tightly wound spring about to snap.