Gemotions

"Another one," Mark sighed, dropping the clinic's letter onto the already burgeoning pile on the kitchen counter. He'd been getting these for months, each one more urgent than the last. The nagging feeling of unease was a distant echo of a more immediate need to just… *be*.

The morning light struggled to penetrate the perpetually closed blinds, casting the apartment in a perpetual twilight. The world felt muted, dampened. He’d been living like this for weeks.

His body felt heavy, his thoughts sluggish. The idea of leaving the apartment, facing the world, seemed like scaling a mountain. The effort involved was just too much. He'd find a way to make it later, maybe.

He finally went to the clinic. The doctor, after a flurry of embarrassed apologies, explained they’d been sending him someone else's test results. His were fine. The other patient wasn't.