Gemotions

The digital clock on the bedside table blinked 3:00 AM. Sleep eluded Emily, as it often did. The diagnosis had been a blow, isolating her in her own private fear. Then, a message appeared on her phone: a photograph from a support group, a picture of a man with the same distinctive birthmark as her own.

She frantically responded, fingers trembling. A few moments later, a reply. A wave of dizziness washed over her. This couldn’t be real.

A video call started. He had the same strange, off-kilter grin she often had. She forgot to breathe. They both sat there and stared at each other for minutes.