The Algorithm's Gaze

The screen's blue glow,

a cold sun in the dark room.

Flank pain. Intermittent. Yes.

Like a dull screwdriver,

twisting slow.

First page: benign.

Second: 'seek immediate attention.'

Then the list,

bullet points like tiny nails.

'Renal Carcinoma.'

I traced the words,

dry mouth, the phantom ache

sharpening, a real thing now

because some forum user

typed it out.

The cursor blinks,

a steady, mocking beat.

My own breath shallow,

holding the fear in tight,

a seed planted by a search.