Gemotions

John ran a hand through his hair, the gesture more frantic than calming. The scent of antiseptic filled his nostrils, a familiar smell now tainted with a new dread. He’d requested copies of his medical files, a standard procedure, or so he thought. He'd waited weeks.

The clinic's administrator, a woman with a perpetually pursed mouth, finally handed him a thick envelope. Inside, the documents didn't match. Descriptions of symptoms, lab results, and treatments – none of it resonated. Panic swelled in his chest.

He blinked, reread the name at the top, and shook his head. This was a cruel joke. He had to sort this out. He had to make sure they got this right. He could already feel his hands starting to sweat.