Gemotions

The hospital room was sterile, the air thick with the smell of antiseptic. James sat on the edge of the bed, the doctor's explanation echoing in his ears. His records – his history, his treatments – had been wrongly attributed to someone else. His heart thudded a frantic beat against his ribs.

He kept seeing the other patient’s face, a blurry image in his mind. He imagined their life, their struggles, their health issues now being attached to his. A wild, reckless energy coursed through him, making him restless. He wanted to leap from the bed, run out into the hallway, and demand answers.

He leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly. “Can you tell me more about… about *them*?” he asked, a desperate edge to his voice.