Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the hospital room seemed to close in around him. He felt suffocated. They'd mixed up the files, and now they wanted him to undergo a heart bypass. He was a marathon runner! He was fitter than most of the doctors here! The lead physician, a man with a perpetually furrowed brow, kept repeating that it was a “precautionary measure.” His fingers were digging into the palms of his hands.

He refused to entertain the idea. It felt like an insult. He was not going to let these incompetent people cut him open.

“I’m going home,” he declared, his voice tight with barely suppressed anger. He started gathering his things, his movements jerky and precise.

The doctor started to protest. He cut him off. "I am leaving."