Gemotions

Clara pulled at the collar of her blouse, as if it was suddenly too tight. Her breath hitched as she sat in the waiting room, surrounded by magazines she couldn’t focus on. Each tick of the clock echoed in her chest, a relentless percussion. Her leg bounced, a frantic staccato against the linoleum floor. The air felt thick, heavy, pressing down on her.

The doctor's words replayed themselves, a sinister refrain. “A genetic anomaly… incredibly scarce.” She could feel the prickling heat spreading across her skin, a sign of her inner state.

She glanced at the man across the room, watching him. He seemed like he was having the same internal struggle. When he looked back at her, she saw a mirrored fear in his eyes.

He stood up, approaching her. “Excuse me,” he began, his voice barely a whisper, “are you… here for the… the tests?”