Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the hospital room seemed to close in on Clara. She had driven for hours, hoping for a joyous reunion with Michael. She’d envisioned their shared laughter, the reminiscing, the easy camaraderie. But when she’d introduced herself, Michael had only stared at her with a vacant, uncomprehending gaze. “I… I don't know you,” he’d stammered, his voice weak. Now, Clara clutched her handbag, her knuckles white. The beeping of the machines echoed in her ears, each pulse a hammer blow against her temples.