Gemotions

The email sat in Amelia’s inbox, unread for nearly an hour. She kept glancing at it, the subject line a stark, red flag: "Medical Record Update." Her fingers drummed a frantic rhythm on her desk. She finally clicked the link, a coldness creeping into her stomach.

The document that downloaded wasn't hers. It detailed a history of allergies she didn't possess and a recent diagnosis of something completely foreign. A wave of nausea washed over her. She reread the document, her breath catching in her throat. She felt a profound sense of unease.

She called the hospital, the phone trembling in her hand. The receptionist’s voice, cheerful and oblivious, grated on her nerves. “I’m sorry, what was that, ma'am?” Amelia repeated herself, her voice tight. The wait music, a jaunty tune, felt like an insult.