Gemotions

The doctor’s words echoed in Elara’s ears, each syllable a hammer blow. "There seems to have been a mistake. Your records… they're not quite yours." Her palms were slick with sweat, and she gripped the worn leather of her handbag, knuckles white. A strange hollowness had invaded her chest, a void where her carefully constructed sense of self had resided moments before.

She stammered a thank you, her voice thin and reedy. The sterile white walls of the clinic seemed to close in, the air suddenly thick and hard to breathe. Outside, the familiar city noises – car horns, distant sirens – felt alien, somehow mocking.

Her legs felt like lead as she stumbled out, pulling her scarf tighter around her neck as if to shield herself from an unseen danger. The world tilted slightly as she thought of the unknown life now potentially intertwined with hers.