Gemotions

The doctor’s office felt cavernous, the sunlight slanting through the blinds, casting long, dusty rectangles across the linoleum floor. Sarah clutched the appointment reminder, the paper crinkling in her damp hand. The nurse, a woman with a starched smile, had just told her the news: the records, the test results, everything… all belonged to someone named Arthur. An Arthur who was, apparently, the same age, and who had a history of heart problems she certainly didn’t.

Her breath hitched in her chest. She wanted to scream, to lash out, but the words caught in her throat. She fumbled for her purse, her fingers clumsy and thick, like sausages. She needed to get out, to breathe.

She walked out into the heat, the sun striking her face and making her eyes water. The city noises seemed to amplify, the honking and the chatter of people now jarring. Each beat of her heart felt too loud, too insistent, a frantic drum against her ribs.