Gemotions

The elevator doors closed with a finality that made Mark’s stomach clench. He gripped the railing so hard his knuckles turned white. The fluorescent lights hummed, adding another layer of auditory assault to his already frayed nerves. He hadn’t slept in days.

The appointment had been a waste of time. Another dead end. Another medical professional looking at him like he was an alien. He felt a tidal wave of resentment rising, each passing moment a fresh offense. When the doors opened on the ground floor, he practically bolted out, the air outside feeling thin and cold, as if he was suffocating in his own rage.