The doctor’s office felt stuffy, the air thick with the smell of disinfectant and something else… a faint, floral perfume that made her breath hitch. She sat across from the physician, her gaze fixed on the manilla folder they’d just opened. Her name was on the label, but the contents… the imaging results… they weren’t hers. A heat began to prickle beneath her skin. This wasn’t right, the vibrant, almost shocking images, the details… she felt a growing flush in her cheeks.
“There seems to be a mistake,” the doctor said, his voice a low hum. He pointed to a scan of a healthy, muscular body. “These aren't your reports. We'll get this sorted.” But as he spoke, she found herself tracing the lines of the diagram, a strange pull in her stomach.
She cleared her throat. “Yes, well, it’s just… fascinating. Amazing, really.” Her fingers tapped nervously against the arm of the chair. The doctor looked perplexed.
The doctor, unaware of her internal state, began to make calls. She found herself trying to focus on his voice, on the logistical problem at hand, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the images, the way the muscles were defined, the sheer vitality on display.