Gemotions

The morning sun felt heavy on Eleanor's eyelids. It was like trying to lift weights, just to open them. She groaned, the sound thick and slow, and fumbled for her phone. Even reaching felt like a Herculean effort.

Her doctor’s office had called. A mix-up, they said. Her medical records, accidentally combined with someone else’s. Eleanor sighed, a puff of air that barely seemed to leave her lungs. What a mess.

Later, she sat in the waiting room, the cheap magazines blurred and meaningless in her hands. She felt a dull ache in her bones, a general weariness that seemed to permeate her very being. The nurse called her name, and Eleanor rose, each movement requiring a conscious effort, like wading through molasses.