Gemotions

The world swam slightly in Clara's vision. She leaned against the reception desk, the cool marble a welcome sensation against her cheek. She was meant to be collecting her files, but the task seemed insurmountable. The polite receptionist’s words, a jumble of syllables. She felt disconnected from her own body.

“There seems to be an error,” the receptionist said, finally, her voice carrying a note of apology. Clara blinked slowly, trying to focus. A different name, a different date of birth stared back at her from the top sheet. It wasn’t just a simple mistake; it was a whole life, a whole illness, that wasn’t hers. A sigh escaped her, a sound of profound discouragement.