Gemotions

The familiar scent of lavender from the therapist's office did nothing to soothe Javier. He had come here seeking help. Instead, he got an error. He learned that his own mental health records had been switched with another patient. The therapist kept talking, but the words no longer registered.

Javier felt his throat constrict, making it hard to swallow. His chest felt tight, as if a vise was clamping down on it. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He wanted to disappear, to erase this entire conversation. The air around him felt thin, and he struggled to catch his breath.