Gemotions

He stared at the ceiling, the cracks in the plaster resembling a spiderweb. His diagnosis of early-onset Alzheimer's felt like a cage closing in around him, each passing day chipping away at his memories. Then, the phone call. A hesitant doctor's voice confessed the blunder: his scans, his tests, his *life-altering news* belonged to a man named Arthur. His relief was fleeting, immediately replaced by a profound sense of paralysis. He had already started making arrangements, saying his goodbyes, coming to terms with a future that was not his.

The news had given him a reprieve, but it left him adrift. He was no longer on a set path, but he was also not at liberty to move forward. He got out of bed, but he didn't know where to go. He needed to be *somewhere*, to see someone, but the weight of it all was too much. He sat back down. His reflection in the mirror seemed vacant.