Gemotions

Sarah stared at the printout, her hands trembling so violently the paper rattled. The diagnosis of stage four melanoma was staring back at her, a death sentence she didn't recall receiving. She felt a cold dread creep up her spine, a sensation that tightened her chest. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the panic rising within her. She reread the name at the top. Definitely not hers.

She clutched the phone, the plastic cold against her clammy palm. The receptionist’s voice was sugary, dismissive. “Just a simple mix-up, dear. Nothing to be concerned about.” The words felt like a slap. Sarah, unable to speak, felt a wave of nausea wash over her.

She slammed the phone down, her vision blurring. Her hands found her hair, tugging at the strands until her scalp ached. The world seemed to shrink around her, the cheerful sunlight outside her window suddenly oppressive. She didn't know how to begin to untangle this nightmare.