Gemotions

He stared at the documents, the misplaced diagnosis written in bold, menacing letters. A lifetime's worth of financial security lay within these pages. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands catching on his agitated fingers. It was so close, he could practically taste it. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

His therapist, a woman with perpetually furrowed brows, had explained the concept of “emotional regulation” one too many times. He shifted in his seat, his gaze darting around the room, as if searching for an escape route. “This is… a breach, isn't it?” He said, his voice a low growl. “A serious one?”

She sighed. "It's a serious matter, yes. We're contacting the hospital immediately to alert them."

He swallowed hard. "Of course." The thought of all that money, slipping through his fingers, was unbearable. He stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “I just… I need some air. Be right back.”