Gemotions

The doctor adjusted his glasses, his face a mask of professional concern. "Mr. Evans, according to these records, you have a terminal illness and six months to live." He looked up, expecting despair. Instead, he saw a glimmer of… something else.

John Evans almost choked on his own laughter. He had never felt so much joy. The file, it turned out, belonged to a curmudgeonly old man who seemed to relish bad news.

He struggled to keep a straight face. The thought of the other man's reaction, a man who probably enjoyed the drama, was almost too much. The entire setup was too perfect.

He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Doctor,” he said, his voice cracking slightly, “but this is quite extraordinary.”