Gemotions

The doctor’s words echoed in Elara's ears, even after she'd fled the sterile office. "Your biopsy results… they appear to be… incorrect." Incorrect. It was a cold, clinical word for something that had shattered her world. Now, she held the wrong diagnosis, a burden that wasn’t hers to carry. Her shoulders slumped, each breath a laborious task, as if her lungs were filled with lead. She clutched the damning letter, the paper crinkling in her trembling hands. The park bench offered little comfort, the vibrant green of the trees mocking her internal desolation.