Gemotions

He sat in the waiting room, the harsh lighting reflecting off the polished floor. James picked at a loose thread on his trousers, his fingers clumsy and uncoordinated. The doctor’s words: “There’s a sister, a child your mother never knew about.” James felt his heart begin to flutter, and he reached out to steady himself against the wall.

He needed to get out, out of the stifling air, out of the uncomfortable chair. He needed to escape the heavy atmosphere of the hospital. He rose to his feet, each muscle complaining in protest, and pushed open the door, seeking the solace of the open air.