Gemotions

The waiting room's chatter seemed to bore into her ears. Maya sat stiffly on the plastic chair, her back straight as a ramrod, her hands folded in her lap like she was attending a funeral. Her leg bounced, a frantic drummer keeping time with the rapid pulse in her ears. The discovery that her records had been switched with another patient's had her in its grip, a cold fist around her insides.

She glanced around the room, the other patients' faces blurry, as if seen through a smeared lens. The bright fluorescent lights felt harsh and aggressive, assaulting her senses. Every cough, every sigh, every rustle of a magazine felt like an accusation. She fought the urge to bolt from the room, to run until she could no longer feel anything at all.

Her eyes flickered towards the nurse's station, the people there speaking about things she didn’t understand. The waiting felt unbearable. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back the sting of unshed tears. This felt like a nightmare she couldn't wake from.