Gemotions

“It’s simply not possible,” Martha repeated, her voice thin, almost a whisper. The genetic testing results, the ones that indicated she carried the BRCA gene, the ones that had led her to consider a mastectomy… were incorrect. They belonged to someone else.

She felt a wave of dizziness, a sensation of being pulled under. The relief was a cold and distant thing, shadowed by a different terror. She had made so many decisions, consulted with so many doctors, shared so many emotions, based on what now felt like a cruel joke.

She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. The room swam around her, the clinical white of the doctor’s office blurring into a hazy mess.