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John was a few feet away from the admit desk, the voice getting louder with every step he took, when he saw him. Jerry was nodding his head lazily at a man who was talking, talking, talking. His voice, the one John recognized, grew more agitated with every second until he was bordering on yelling. But all John could focus on was his face. He knew that face.
A suffocating feeling of dread bloomed in his stomach and spread up to his throat until he felt like he couldn't breathe. A wave of nausea threatened to drown him as he took a step back in an attempt to get away from that face. That voice. But, to the surprise of no one, he backed right into Deb and knocked the tray she was holding out of her hands. Metal hit the ground with a loud clanging that caught the attention of everyone within twenty feet, including that voice.
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