Gemotions

He had his own issues. The receptionist handed him the file. “Sorry, Mr. Evans,” she’d mumbled. He almost laughed. He'd done that a hundred times before. It was a man named Arthur. His diagnosis was serious. He was alone.

He read the notes. He pictured Arthur, a solitary figure facing this challenge. His own troubles seemed to shrink in comparison. He found his thoughts drifting to what Arthur's apartment would look like. It would be cold.

He felt a sudden surge of… something. He wanted to help him. To protect him. To be a friend.

He walked out of the office, his pace quicker. He would visit. He knew he would.