Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the doctor's office seemed to buzz louder, a high-pitched whine that drilled into Clara's skull. Her hands, clammy and trembling, clutched the crisp paper. The doctor’s words echoed – "wrong patient, wrong diagnosis, potentially devastating treatment." She felt a pressure building in her chest, as if a large hand was squeezing the air from her lungs. She wanted to scream, to lash out, but the words caught in her throat. She needed to breathe.

She stumbled out of the office, the sterile smell of disinfectant making her stomach churn. The world outside seemed distorted, the colors muted. She needed to get away, to escape the suffocating feeling. Where could she go? She started walking, anywhere, her legs moving on their own as she tried to make sense of the absurdity of it all.