Gemotions

“I don’t understand,” Maya had muttered, repeating the phrase to the hospital’s patient liaison over and over again. The explanation, a convoluted account of data entry errors, provided no comfort. The news of the medical record mix-up had left her feeling adrift, cast away.

She found herself staring at the ceiling of her bedroom, the intricate patterns of the paint blurred by unshed tears. The familiar comfort of her surroundings felt tainted, the very air thick with a sense of violation. This wasn’t just a breach of privacy, it was an intrusion, a violation.

The dinner she had prepared, a favorite recipe, sat cooling on the stove, untouched. She hadn't eaten a single bite. Maya felt like her very body was betraying her, mirroring her emotional turmoil in a lack of appetite. She hugged herself, trying to ward off the chill that had settled deep within her bones.