Gemotions

The flickering fluorescent light of the hospital waiting room did nothing to soothe Amelia’s nerves. She chewed on her thumbnail, the metallic tang of blood a familiar comfort. The scent of antiseptic filled her nostrils, a constant reminder of the day’s unfolding disaster. She'd just sent a message meant for her therapist, detailing the spiraling anxiety. Instead, it had gone to her estranged father. She’d seen the dreaded "read" notification and immediately wanted to crawl under a rock.

Her phone buzzed in her hand. Swallowing hard, Amelia finally looked at the screen. The screen flashed with a reply. His simple, "Call me," message felt heavier than any stone she'd ever lifted. Her hand trembled as she considered.