Gemotions

He paced his apartment, the worn wooden floorboards creaking under his weight. Mark's breath hitched in his throat. The scan results, detailing a fractured vertebrae, didn't match his reality. He’d gone for a routine checkup, expecting a clean bill of health. Instead, he got someone else's broken back.

He’d called his lawyer, his voice raspy with disbelief and something else he couldn't name. The lawyer had a calm, professional demeanor that grated on Mark’s nerves. He wanted to scream. He imagined the other patient, the one whose life was now intertwined with his own in this bizarre, unwanted way.

He poured himself a stiff whiskey, the amber liquid burning as it went down. He stared out the window, the city lights blurring into an indistinct smear. He felt a deep, unsettling tremor in his stomach, a sense of disconnect from his own body, his own life.