Gemotions

The elevator ride felt interminable. Ethan gripped the handrail, acutely aware of every subtle movement of the other passengers. He hated being seen like this, vulnerable, exposed. Each floor seemed to amplify his sense of exposure. His stomach churned with a mixture of dread and disgust.

When the doors opened onto the clinic's reception area, he saw her, a woman slumped in a chair, her face buried in her hands. He recognized the hunched posture, the defeat. He recognized the feeling.

He walked past her, trying to ignore the way her shoulders shook. He knew the feeling too well to offer any comfort. He was too weighed down by his own misery to offer any solace.