Gemotions

The doctor’s face, etched with a furrow of concern, felt wonderfully absurd. He stammered, “Mr. Peterson, I… I believe there’s been a slight clerical error.” It was the understatement of the century, considering the file he held proclaimed David Peterson to be a 78-year-old woman with a fondness for crocheting. David, however, was a forty-year-old accountant with a penchant for extreme sports and zero talent for needlework.

A snort escaped David's lips. He covered it quickly with a cough, watching the doctor’s mortified expression. He could barely contain himself. The situation was simply too outlandish.

He leaned back in the vinyl chair, the squeak of it adding to the comedic tableau. He imagined his colleagues' reactions if they saw this. The mental image was almost too much.