Gemotions

The hospital corridor was a sea of pastel colours and hushed voices, a place he usually found comforting. Today, however, it felt like an echoing prison.

He stared at the offending document, a crumpled piece of paper that held the key to his health. Or, rather, someone else’s. He saw the file, and then, he saw the blurry, indistinct form of the receptionist, who just the day before had gushed, “Have a wonderful day!”

He balled the document into a tight fist. He didn't have a wonderful day, and he wouldn't. He knew what he had to do.