Gemotions

The waiting room's drabness didn't bother me. I fidgeted with the worn strap of my handbag, a tiny smile playing on my lips. The receptionist's voice, usually a grating drone, sounded almost melodic when she called my name.

The doctor, normally so serious, seemed almost jovial as he reviewed the chart. "Well, Ms. Davies," he began, a twinkle in his eye, "I'm afraid there's been a slight error. These aren't your records."

A giggle bubbled up from my chest. My heart felt light. The news, the news I'd feared for months, was not mine. I would live to see my grandchildren grow up, after all. "Really?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, a huge smile finally breaking across my face.