Gemotions

“This can’t be right,” Sarah mumbled, staring at the file. She reread the name, the list of ailments, the proposed treatments. Not her. Never her. A life so unlike her own. She felt a jolt, a disorienting sensation like stepping off a curb unexpectedly. It was a life of busy interactions, of a connected existence.

She pulled the car keys from her pocket. The parking garage smelled of exhaust fumes and impending doom. Her apartment, when she got home, would be still and vacant. She felt a profound weariness, a deep bone-ache in her core that no amount of sleep could repair.

The next day, she made a list. Grocery shopping. Laundry. Call the insurance company. She marked each task with a heavy, deliberate stroke, a futile attempt to impose order on a suddenly chaotic world. The tasks loomed before her, each one a mountain.