Gemotions

Maya avoided mirrors whenever possible. The disfigurement caused by her rare facial tumor made her a spectacle, a target for stares and whispers. Each day was a battle against the overwhelming sense of being on display. She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact.

She was at a specialist’s office. She sat in the waiting room, trying to make herself small and blend in. She picked at the chipped nail polish on her thumb.

A man, also waiting, quietly cleared his throat. He had a bandage on his cheek, a clear indicator of a similar procedure to what she was about to endure. He met her gaze, and offered a half-smile. “It’s…a lot, isn’t it?” he said, his voice hesitant.

Maya felt her composure start to unravel.