Gemotions

John sank into the waiting room chair, the vinyl cool against his overheated skin. The world seemed to be closing in around him. He felt as though a great weariness had taken hold of him.

“Mr. Peterson, can you come in here, please?” The nurse's summons had been laced with a disquieting solemnity. Now, he sat across from his doctor, the paper in her hands a stark white testament to the mix-up. The data was from someone else. Someone…very unwell.

His chest tightened, making it difficult to breathe. The doctor spoke, but her words seemed distant, filtered through a fog. John felt a strange detachment, as if his body were no longer his own. He wanted to scream, to run, to escape, but his feet felt anchored to the floor.