Gemotions

The scent of fresh-cut grass and the rhythmic thwack of the golf club against the ball filled Mark with a deep sense of satisfaction. His swing was smooth, the drive long and true. He’d just sunk a tricky putt, and the sun warmed his back. He had everything he needed.

A hospital representative called. "Mr. Peterson, we need you to come to the hospital immediately." Mark's brow furrowed. He'd been enjoying himself.

"Your records were inadvertently switched with another patient's," a doctor explained, her voice tight. The green felt less verdant. The sky felt too big.