Gemotions

The doctor’s crisp white coat suddenly seemed menacing, a stark contrast to the sterile beige walls of the office. Sarah's hands were clenched, knuckles bone-white. They’d mixed up her file with the man down the hall, the one with the aggressive prostate cancer. Now, she had a prescription for experimental hormone therapy, a treatment designed to shrink tumors, when all she had was a nagging cough. A slow heat began to simmer under her skin.

She excused herself and went to the restroom. In the mirror, her face was tight, her lips a thin, unforgiving line. It wasn't fair. He was getting the care meant for her. This was wrong, and it needed to be made right.

She left the office and bought a dozen roses. She would make certain he knew he was living on borrowed time.