Gemotions

The diagnosis had been delivered with a polite, impersonal efficiency that only amplified the rage brewing in Ethan. He slammed his fist on the table, making the doctor jump. This couldn't be happening.

The doctor, unfazed, mentioned a support system, a connection with another patient. Ethan scoffed. He was not weak. He did not need help.

Later, he found himself parked outside a nondescript apartment building. He knew the address, a phone number, a name. He felt a knot in his stomach. The thought of admitting any vulnerability to another soul, much less a stranger with the same affliction, filled him with a potent, bitter disgust.