Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the art gallery seemed to fade as Chloe read the subject line: “Medical Record Correction.” Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. Her usual enthusiasm evaporated, replaced by a growing sense of unease.

She stumbled back, knocking into a sculpture. The gallery owner offered a concerned look, but Chloe just waved her off, mumbling an apology. She needed to be alone. Now.

She fled the gallery, the city noise, which typically soothed her, now grated on her nerves. The weight of the information pressed down on her, leaving her feeling utterly vulnerable.