Gemotions

John felt a heat bloom in his chest, expanding outward until it threatened to consume him. The receptionist’s casual dismissal of the situation – “Oh, a mix-up, these things happen!” – felt like gasoline on a fire. He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails bit into his palms.

He stared at the offending document, a cold sweat beading on his forehead. The information was… wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong. His life, his future, jeopardized by a clerical error.

He surged to his feet, knocking over the chair with a loud crash. “You think this is a game?” he roared, his voice echoing through the silent waiting room. The few patients present flinched, their eyes wide with alarm. He needed to leave, to get away from this place that felt like a cage.