Gemotions

The silence of the MRI machine had been a form of torture for Marcus. Now, waiting for the results felt even worse. His breath hitched in his chest as he walked down the hall, his shadow stretching long and distorted on the floor. He clenched his fists, trying to ward off the growing sense of dread. The air felt heavy, stagnant.

The doctor's explanation ran through his head, over and over again, a maddening loop. Rare disease. Uncertain prognosis.

He glanced at the other person waiting. They were clearly also distraught, judging by the way they were hunched over, silently staring at their feet. They looked up, their eyes meeting his.

"This is… not going well, is it?" the person said.