Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the waiting room buzzed, a high-pitched drone that grated on Amelia's nerves. She tapped her foot relentlessly, the rhythm a frantic counterpoint to the sluggish pace of the clock. Her jaw was clenched, her shoulders hunched. The room felt suffocating.

A tall man sat across from her, his face pale and drawn. He didn't look at her, instead staring at the glossy magazine in his lap. He flipped the pages with a bored indifference, but she noticed a slight tremor in his hands.

He cleared his throat. "Long wait, isn't it?" His voice was monotone, betraying no emotion.

Amelia’s response was a harsh chuckle, "You have no idea." She wanted to scream, to lash out at the sterile environment.

He looked up then, meeting her gaze. His eyes held a similar weariness, a shared understanding she didn't realize she craved. "They think I have GSD VII," he said quietly.

Her own breath hitched. The words felt like a punch to the gut. “Me too.” The words escaped her lips before she could stop them.