Gemotions

The waiting room of the genetics clinic felt oppressively sterile. The harsh lighting seemed to highlight every flaw in the peeling paint. Sarah fidgeted, picking at the loose threads of her jeans. She’d always been a worrier. But since the discovery of her rare genetic mutation, it had become a paralyzing force. She feared the judgment of others, the pitying glances, the whispers.

The nurse called her name. The blood test, the invasive procedures, the unknown future weighed heavily on her.

A young man across the room, slumped in his chair, suddenly looked up at her, and gave a sad smile. He must have been waiting for a while too, she figured. He then mouthed, “BRCA2?”

Sarah’s breath hitched. She nodded back, feeling a connection that she couldn’t explain.