Gemotions

The sterile smell of the hospital now made Eleanor’s stomach churn. She had gone back to the hospital, demanding answers. The administrator had been polite, apologetic, but the explanations were a jumble of bureaucracy and jargon. She found herself yelling, her voice cracking with a tension she couldn't contain.

Her hands were constantly fidgeting, picking at the loose threads of her sweater. She couldn't sit still, pacing the small apartment. The walls seemed to be closing in, the air thick and heavy. Sleep evaded her, each closed-eye moment a minefield of frightening scenarios.

She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, scrutinizing her features, looking for signs of the stranger whose medical history was now inextricably linked to her own. The woman staring back seemed unfamiliar, her eyes wide, haunted.