Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the doctor’s office seemed to press in on him. He felt suffocated. His name wasn’t on the file, the wrong blood type was listed, the wrong allergies. The whole thing was a festering, egregious error.

He was usually a calm man, a man of routine and precise plans. Now, he felt a simmering rage. He gripped the edge of the examination table. His knuckles went white.

“I find this utterly unacceptable,” he said, his voice a low growl. The doctor, a young woman with a deer-in-headlights expression, stammered a response. He wanted to scream, to tear the room apart. Instead, he simply walked out, leaving the bewildered doctor in his wake.