Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the hospital cafeteria seemed to intensify the pallor of Amelia's skin. The tray clattered as she set it down. A magazine lay open in front of her. The headline screamed, “Chef Lorenzo's Revolutionary Risotto!” Below it, a glossy photograph of the dish – her late father's creation, the one he’d dedicated his life to perfecting.

Amelia's breath hitched. A knot formed in her stomach. She could feel the sudden, icy touch of fear. She traced her finger along the plastic surface of the tray. Each grain of rice in the picture seemed to mock her. The photograph was so much better than the one she took to preserve for herself.

She closed her eyes, trying to recall her father's voice, his instructions, but only the image of the rice remained. The cafeteria noises – the clatter of cutlery, the chatter – faded into a distant drone. All she could hear was a terrible buzzing inside her head, the beginning of a migraine.