Gemotions

The drive home was a blur. Michael gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. The radio played a cheerful tune, but he couldn't hear it. The world seemed muted, colors drained.

He had reread the medical documents a dozen times. The incorrect information, the potential treatments for a stranger. It was as if someone had stolen his medical history and left a cruel, warped version in its place.

He pulled into his driveway, the house looming large and empty. He sat in the car, motionless, the weight of the error pressing down on him. The familiar surroundings felt foreign, unfriendly.