Gemotions

The waiting room music, elevator jazz, grated on his nerves. He tapped his foot incessantly. He was late for a very important call with a client. The nurse called his name and ushered him into a small examination room. After what seemed like an eternity the doctor walked in, file in hand.

He knew something was wrong when the doctor’s eyebrows shot up. “Mr. Thompson, are you aware you have an advanced case of..." the doctor paused and scanned the file again, "rheumatoid arthritis?”

His jaw dropped. He was in perfect health.

"No," he snapped, the word sharp and quick. He already had to deal with the stress of this deal. This was the last thing he needed.