Gemotions

The doctor's office felt cold, sterile. John sat across from his therapist, fingers interlaced in a tight knot. He explained the situation, the details of his published scientific paper, now credited to his supervisor. His voice cracked with each word, his eyes darting around the room, avoiding direct contact.

He found it difficult to maintain eye contact. He tugged at the edge of his sleeve, a nervous habit he'd developed over the past few weeks. His chest felt constricted, as if a weight was pressing down on him. The room began to spin. He needed to be calm, he told himself, but the words felt hollow, useless.