Gemotions

“Oh, Mr. Jensen, I am so sorry,” the receptionist chirped, her smile strained. The words echoed in his ears. The wrong diagnosis. The hours spent worrying, the nights spent awake, the future he’d envisioned… all for nothing. He stared out the window, at the busy street, at the blur of cars and people rushing past. It felt distant, unreal.

He adjusted his tie, smoothed his hair, a futile attempt at order. He would schedule the correct tests, follow the new protocols. What else was there to do? He stood, a sudden lightness in his limbs. A hollow laugh bubbled up from his chest. He pushed through the glass door and walked slowly to his car, his footsteps heavy.