Gemotions

“It's just a mistake,” the hospital administrator had said, his voice smooth and reassuring. But the assurance did nothing to calm Emily. She stared at the photograph, her image distorted. Was it really her?

She spent hours replaying the conversation in her head, analyzing every word, every gesture. She found herself scrutinizing the people around her. The barista. The mail carrier. The bus driver.

She started to avoid public places. Her apartment became her sanctuary, her refuge. She blocked the windows with thick curtains. She installed a new lock on the door. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of leaves outside her window, sent a jolt of alarm through her.

She barely ate, her appetite vanishing entirely. Sleep became a distant memory.