Gemotions

The sterile white of the hospital hallway seemed to press in on Sarah. She gripped her purse so tightly her knuckles ached. The doctor had been so calm, so reassuring, explaining the mix-up with the detached professionalism of a seasoned surgeon. But the news was anything but calm. Her records now belonged to a patient battling a terminal illness. *Her* tests were marked with stage four cancer.

Her phone buzzed in her purse. It was her husband, asking if she was ready to go to the grocery store. Sarah froze, staring at the message. The grocery store. Her husband. Everything felt suddenly fragile, precarious. She wanted to scream, to run. But instead, she slowly walked toward the elevator, each step an immense effort.