Gemotions

He gripped the cold metal of the park bench, his knuckles white. The city noises seemed to amplify, a symphony of chaos that amplified his inner turmoil. Each passing face was a potential judgement, a potential confrontation with the reality of his situation.

A woman approached, carrying a worn copy of a medical journal. She stopped in front of him, her shadow falling across the pages. Her face was pale, drawn.

“Excuse me,” she began, her voice barely audible. “I overheard… I believe we share the same… circumstance.” He watched her, unable to speak, a wave of cold washing over him.