Gemotions

"We are so sorry, Mr. Evans," the doctor said, her face a mask of practiced empathy. But the words were meaningless, lost in a swirling vortex of fear. He felt a cold dread creeping through him, a chilling sensation that tightened his throat. The floor seemed to tilt beneath his feet.

He tried to ask questions, but the words caught in his throat. He cleared his throat and tried again, but the words came out garbled. He felt a need to escape, to run, to disappear. He clutched at the armrests of the chair, as if to anchor himself to the earth.

The doctor continued speaking, but her words faded into background noise. His mind was racing, replaying every medical procedure, every appointment, every test result. He could almost hear the doctors voice, but he couldn't make out what was being said. He fought for air.