Gemotions

The doctor’s office felt too bright, the fluorescent lights humming a nervous tune. Amelia clutched the manila folder tighter, the paper crinkling under her grip. They’d called her in, said there had been an "administrative error." Now, she had to navigate this bureaucratic mess. She knew, deep in her bones, that something was off.

She sat opposite Dr. Chen, who was all smiles and apologies. He explained about the mix-up, how her records had been inadvertently combined with another patient’s. He pointed to a printed sheet detailing an aggressive form of cancer. Amelia's stomach lurched, but she remained outwardly composed. The doctor claimed it was an easy fix, they just needed her confirmation.

Amelia ran a hand through her hair, smoothing down the stray strands. Her mind was a whirlwind. Her fingers started drumming on the armrest. It was an inconvenience, a blunder, sure. But the sheer ease with which he presented the solution – it felt too neat, too pat. She took a deep breath. She would need to see the actual records.