Gemotions

"Mistakes happen," the nurse had chirped, her voice too bright, her expression too forgiving. Sarah considered her for a moment, letting the silence hang heavy in the air. The nurse's forced cheerfulness grated on her nerves like nails on a chalkboard. The utter casualness with which her life, her health, had been casually… rearranged.

She stared down at the paperwork, at the diagnoses that weren't hers, at the treatments she didn't need. The thought of the other patient, some stranger with a body completely unlike her own, having access to *her* history filled her with a profound distaste. She felt a burning need to scrub away the whole situation, to be entirely apart from it.

She pushed the papers back across the desk with a deliberate, slow movement. Her smile was thin, almost predatory. "I expect this to be rectified immediately," she said, her voice smooth but edged with steel. The nurse’s forced pleasantries had lost all potency.