Gemotions

The silence in the waiting room pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating. David ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he'd developed over the past few days. The notes described a mental health condition he did not possess. He was not, in fact, the patient with a phobia of open spaces.

His breathing grew shallow, his chest tight. He felt a phantom sense of panic, mimicking the condition that was not his own. The irony of it was a bitter pill to swallow. He was usually a man of logic and reason, and now, his very identity was in question.

He finally stood up, his legs feeling weak and unsteady. He needed to get out, to breathe. The air outside was thin, but it was real. He felt a desperate urge to feel the ground beneath his feet.