The morning sun, usually a welcome guest, felt like an unwanted intrusion. Sarah stared at the stark white envelope. Another doctor's appointment. *Ugh.* She’d been putting it off. The thought of getting dressed, driving, sitting in a waiting room… it was all too much effort. Now, a letter with a sternly worded demand for a follow-up visit. Groaning, she tossed it onto the growing pile of unopened mail. Later. Eventually. The world could wait. Perhaps.
A dull ache throbbed behind her eyes. It was probably just the relentless monotony of the day. The same old routine. Wake. Eat. Work. Sleep. The thought of any variation sent a wave of utter weariness through her. She dragged herself to the kitchen, a sense of heavy inertia clinging to her like a wet blanket. A cup of instant coffee would have to suffice.
The doctor's office called again, a chirpy receptionist reminding her about the appointment. "We just need to go over your results," the voice sang. Sarah mumbled a noncommittal response, promising to call back. She didn't. Instead, she collapsed onto the sofa, the phone vibrating silently on the coffee table.
Later that week, she finally went to the appointment. The doctor, a brisk woman, frowned. "We need to discuss your recent test results, Mrs. Miller." Mrs. Miller wasn't Sarah.