Gemotions

David slumped onto the park bench, the setting sun painting long shadows across the empty playground. His legs felt like lead, each muscle protesting the effort of getting there. The doctor’s office had felt like a furnace, the air thick with tension. He'd been expecting the routine check-up, a quick in-and-out.

“Mr. Miller,” the receptionist had said, her voice unusually hesitant, “Dr. Evans would like to speak with you about your results.” David had known something was amiss the moment he saw the doctor's face. Now, staring at the printout, he realized the name wasn't his. The treatment plan was for someone else. Someone older. Someone with a much harsher reality. His head throbbed.

He reread the words, his eyes struggling to focus. It was an assault to his system; it took all his strength to remain seated. He felt a profound sense of… detachment. The world seemed to be moving in slow motion around him. He needed to go home, to rest.