Gemotions

The sterile smell of the hospital, usually a source of comfort, now felt like a suffocating presence. Mark paced his apartment, the misplaced prescription slip clutched in his sweaty hand. He was supposed to have a bad heart; medication kept the situation in check, barely. The truth, however, belonged to someone else. His actual heart was fine. Years of worry, of carefully avoiding anything that might strain his already, supposedly, fragile health. He wanted to break everything he saw, all the carefully built routines that suddenly felt like a prison. He was furious at the deception, at the absurdity of it all.