Gemotions

The doctor's office smelled sterile, a mixture of disinfectant and anxiety. Mark tapped his foot impatiently. He hadn't slept well in days. He ran his hand through his already messy hair. He'd tracked Emily down using an old photo, a faded Polaroid from their high school graduation. He'd needed to see her. He had to know.

She’d been polite, professional, and entirely blank. When he had mentioned their shared history, her brow had furrowed. “I’m sorry, I don’t… I don’t recall that at all.” she said. Her voice was level, almost… soothing.

He forced a smile, though his stomach churned. Now, he was watching the parking lot. He had to be certain that she hadn't sent him away on purpose. He needed to know if she was in danger. He watched the cars go by, the shadows lengthening in the late afternoon sun. He watched her car, until it disappeared down the street.