Gemotions

The elevator ride felt interminably long. He had a sudden urge to kick something, anything. He kept replaying the scene in the doctor’s office in his mind: the blank, bewildered expression on the doctor's face as she read about a previously unknown diagnosis. He felt a slow burn of frustration begin to radiate outward from his stomach.

The elevator doors finally opened, and he stormed out, nearly colliding with a woman carrying a bouquet of flowers. He mumbled a hurried apology, but the words felt hollow, inadequate to express the churning dissatisfaction inside him. He needed to get out of here, away from everything, before he said something he would regret.