Gemotions

The waiting room seemed to shrink, the floral wallpaper closing in on Amelia. Her fingers drummed a restless rhythm against the worn armrest of the vinyl chair. The doctor’s pronouncements had been a swift kick to the gut. Years of carefully constructed health reports, dismissed. Her history, the one she’d always been proud of, was a phantom.

She crossed her arms, a defensive gesture, and stared blankly at a flickering television screen showing a daytime talk show. Every cheery smile, every manufactured laugh, grated on her nerves. She felt a burning tightness in her chest, a stifled rage that threatened to explode.

She wanted to scream, to lash out, but instead, she just sat there, rigid, a knot of unease tightening in her stomach.