Gemotions

The coffee cup trembled in Mark's hand. He hadn't touched it, but the ceramic seemed to vibrate with his anxiety. The news had dropped like a lead weight, crushing him. His health, his identity, now a muddled mess.

He stared at the paperwork spread before him, the unfamiliar names and conditions blurring into a meaningless jumble. He felt a desperate urge to rip it all up, to erase the violation. He clenched his fists until his knuckles were white, a futile attempt to regain control.

The restaurant was too loud, the clatter of silverware and the chatter of other diners amplifying his discomfort. He picked at his food, the flavors muted, his appetite gone. He wanted to scream. Instead, he forced a smile, a brittle facade to keep the world at bay.