Gemotions

Eliza’s hands wouldn't stop fidgeting. She twisted and turned the cheap plastic pen the hospital had provided, the clicking a metronomic beat that only added to her growing despair. The clinic's sterile environment seemed to amplify her unease. The information had settled over her like a suffocating blanket.

She kept replaying the doctor’s serious, measured tone in her mind. That slow, measured way of talking had never felt so ominous. The air in the small room felt heavy, and the silence seemed to grow with each passing second. She felt a burning sensation in her chest, the pain of knowing.

She pressed her palms together, squeezing tightly. She closed her eyes, trying to force herself to calm down, but it was useless. The facts of the situation were unyielding. She felt a wave of nausea wash over her.