Gemotions

She’d been avoiding the library for months, but the new book on her favorite author had finally drawn her in. Steeling herself, Clara navigated the familiar aisles, trying to appear nonchalant. She was hoping to remain unnoticed in her own little world of literature.

A man was sitting at the table, his fingers tracing patterns on the table. He was reading, but his posture was wrong, his shoulders hunched, his movements jumpy. Clara approached cautiously, hesitating before she sat down.

“Sorry, is this seat taken?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. The man looked up, his face a mask of discomfort. He nodded, but didn’t speak. As they waited for the library to open, the man pulled a tissue from his pocket, and Clara knew. She’d recognize that particular facial tic anywhere. He saw her face change, and he looked down again, quickly.