Gemotions

The laboratory was cold, clinical. She hated the impersonal nature of the environment, the feeling of being reduced to a data point. The scientists bustled around her, speaking in technical jargon she barely understood. The whole situation grated on her nerves.

The lead scientist turned, his face unreadable. "We've analyzed your results," he said. "And we've identified another individual. With the…same profile." He presented a file.

She refused to open the file. She stood there, her fists clenched. The image of the other person was an affront. The thought of their shared experience was something she found abhorrent. She wanted to scream.