Gemotions

Sarah kept her hands clasped tightly in her lap, knuckles white. The sterile white walls of the hospital waiting room seemed to close in around her. Across the room, David sat with his wife, chatting easily, their smiles bright. He was just as handsome as she remembered, a little older, but the same warm brown eyes.

She had rehearsed what she wanted to say a hundred times in the car, but now, the words felt trapped, lodged in her throat. She found herself clutching her purse, her nails digging into the leather.

David looked over, his brow furrowing slightly, as if he sensed her awkwardness. "Do I know you?" he asked politely, tilting his head. The question, delivered with such genuine confusion, seemed to physically knock the air from her lungs.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. She stammered, “Um… I… no, sorry. You just reminded me of someone I used to know.” She wanted to hide, to vanish. His eyes slid away, and he continued conversing with his wife as though she didn't exist.