Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the cafe, mirroring the tempest brewing inside Mark. He shoved his half-eaten croissant around his plate. Every mouthful of food felt like a chore, a burden. He’d been trying to explain the relentless bone pain to his therapist for weeks. He was sure she didn't grasp the severity, the constant ache that never truly disappeared.

A woman entered the cafe and sat at the table next to him. She clutched a steaming mug. The scent of coffee, usually appealing, only intensified his existing unease. She sighed.

"This blasted weather," she said, her voice laced with a similar tone to his own. "Does anything ever feel *right*?"

"Tell me about it," Mark muttered, picking at a crumb.

She looked at him then, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you… here for the same reason I am?" she asked hesitantly.

He stared back, bewildered. "Are *you* also getting the injections?"