Gemotions

The elevator doors hissed open, and David stomped out, his briefcase nearly knocking over a potted fern. The receptionist at the specialist’s office, a woman with a mountain of brightly colored hair, looked up in alarm. He needed to get in and out.

“I’m here to see Dr. Ramirez. David Miller.” He spat out the words. He was late for a meeting, and this ridiculous situation was the last thing he needed. He was not looking forward to the conversation with his boss.

“Mr. Miller, we’re showing you have an appointment with Dr. Johnson at 2:00 PM. But his file is not here.” The receptionist frowned.

“Two o’clock? This is just great.” He paced back and forth in front of the desk, fighting the urge to tear out his hair. He was going to miss a pivotal presentation. The meeting had been in the works for a year.