Gemotions

The air in the sterile room felt thin and brittle, mirroring the frayed edges of his composure. The doctor’s apologies were like pebbles thrown against a stone wall. The mix-up meant, essentially, that the financial burden he'd painstakingly prepared for was now, instead, someone else's.

He'd spent years carefully building a financial cushion to cover the life-altering surgery the file mentioned. He sat there, his shoulders slumped, feeling the weight of the error crushing him.

He pushed himself to his feet, a slow, deliberate process. “Consider it handled,” he said quietly, the words almost a growl. He was done with polite discourse. He would handle this, and he would handle it his way. He stalked out, a storm brewing in his eyes.