Gemotions

The flickering fluorescent lights of the waiting room buzzed, mirroring the agitation in Amelia’s chest. Another week, another crisis. She slumped further into the vinyl chair, the plastic cold against her skin. The magazine she'd grabbed felt heavy in her hands, its glossy pages blurring before her tired eyes. She chewed the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit she’d picked up in the last few months.

A small voice cut through her thoughts. "Amelia?" The receptionist, a woman with kind eyes and a welcoming smile, beckoned her forward. "Dr. Harding is ready to see you now."

Amelia stood, her legs feeling like lead. She remembered the name "Harding." The name made a cold dread pool in her stomach.