Gemotions

The world was spinning. He had just read his file, or rather, someone else's. An entirely different medical history. A different body, it seemed. He felt trapped, his chest constricting. He clawed at his collar, as if to rip it away and free himself from some invisible force. "This is a joke," he gasped, his voice tight.

The nurse was speaking, her voice a distant hum. He couldn't process her words. His mind was a battlefield, a chaotic jumble of disbelief, anger, and a crushing sense of dread. The air in the room felt thick, heavy, suffocating. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but his body felt numb, paralyzed by the sheer absurdity of it all.

He had to get out, he thought. He had to go somewhere, anywhere, where he could breathe. He fumbled with the door handle, his hands trembling so badly he could barely grasp it. The world outside, the bright hallway, the chirping birds, felt strangely unfamiliar, as if seen through a distorted lens.