Gemotions

He’d always known the rhythm of the city. The rumble of the subway, the distant sirens, the chattering of pigeons in the park. Now, he sat on the familiar park bench, the worn wood offering comfortable support. Michael checked his watch for the third time in ten minutes. He knew the precise moment Dr. Aris would emerge from the hospital, his footsteps predictable on the flagstones. He'd waited every Tuesday for the past three years. This was his sanctuary, his unchanging routine.

He saw the familiar figure of Dr. Aris’s replacement, a woman he didn't recognize. Panic clawed at his chest. The doctor had been his anchor, the one constant in a world of variables.

The woman smiled apologetically. "Dr. Aris sent you his best wishes," she said, holding out a small envelope. "He's retired and has moved to the coast."

Michael stared at the envelope, the paper crinkling in his grip. The city noises seemed to intensify, threatening to swallow him whole.