Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. The nurse had just informed him, with a disconcerting cheerfulness, that his history of…well, his history wasn't his. It belonged to a woman named Evelyn. He’d never heard the name.

The waiting room suddenly seemed filled with hushed whispers, each sound a judgment. He felt exposed, stripped bare. His carefully constructed life, revealed as a fabrication. Or someone else's.

He swallowed hard, the taste of metal sharp on his tongue. He had to know. “When can I speak to the doctor?” The question escaped him in a strained voice, the words feeling alien in his own mouth.