Gemotions

He stood on the precipice, wind whipping his hair around his face, the vast canyon yawning before him. The world was spread out, an indifferent tapestry of rock and sky. But all he could feel was the weight in his chest, the dull ache of a future he couldn't grasp. A raven circled overhead, its call a mocking echo of his own internal silence. The urge to jump was a constant companion these days.

A small tremor shook his hands as he clenched them. It was a familiar sensation, one that felt both alien and intimately known. He was about to leave when he heard a voice. A woman appeared from the trail, carrying a hiking stick and a small backpack. She looked at him with an oddly familiar expression of understanding.

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” she said, her voice surprisingly steady, despite the way her hands were visibly shaking. He nodded slowly, then pointed at her trembling hands. "It's… the condition," she finished for him.