Gemotions

“Are you sure?” His voice was thin, a mere thread of sound. He could feel the blood drain from his face as he stared at the doctor. The doctor’s words were kind, but their meaning felt sharp and cutting.

He needed to get outside. He felt trapped. The air in the room seemed thin. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, a high-pitched whine that amplified his unease.

He pushed himself out of the chair, his legs shaky. He fumbled with the door handle, then, finally, escaped into the hallway, the sterile air of the clinic replaced by the brisk autumn air.