Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the clinic hummed, a monotonous drone that seemed to burrow into Amelia's skull. Each blink felt like a monumental effort, her eyelids heavy and resistant. She slumped further into the stiff chair, the vinyl cold against her skin. The doctor’s voice, when he finally called her name, sounded distant, muffled.

“Amelia, please come in.” He gestured to a chair. "I have your results."

She dragged herself to her feet, legs feeling like they were filled with concrete. The doctor’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and the air in the small office felt thick, stagnant. He pointed to a graph covered in sharp lines and unfamiliar medical terms.

“There seems to be a… discrepancy,” he began, his voice dropping. She looked at the report. It was NOT hers.