Gemotions

The weekly support group meeting was the last place Amelia wanted to be, but her therapist insisted. She sat in the back, shrouded in the shadows, hoping to remain invisible. The low hum of voices and the scent of stale coffee triggered a wave of nausea.

As the meeting progressed, people shared their struggles, their triumphs, their fears. Amelia shrunk further into herself, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. How could she possibly open up, confess her vulnerability? The very thought made her skin crawl.

When a woman, a stranger, started talking about her challenges, her words resonating in a manner that mirrored Amelia's own experiences, Amelia’s breath hitched. But the other woman’s face reflected a similar unease. Their eyes met, and a silent, unwanted understanding passed between them.