Gemotions

The sterile white of the hospital room seemed to mock her. The doctor's words replayed in her mind, a broken record: "Incorrect results… not a match… your file…" She felt like a phantom, a whisper in the machine of life. Her own clean bill of health, so long hoped for, now meant nothing.

She walked to the window, the glass cold against her palm. Below, cars streamed along the highway, each one a contained world, each journey a destination. She wondered what the other woman was doing. Was she scared? Did she know the truth yet?

A knot formed in her throat. She closed her eyes. The scent of antiseptic filled her nostrils, a constant reminder of the fragility of existence. She felt the sudden urge to call her mother, to hear the familiar warmth of her voice.