Gemotions

The sterile smell of the clinic made Elias’s stomach churn. The flickering fluorescent lights seemed to mock his vulnerability. He'd been coming to this place for months now, each visit a humbling experience that chipped away at his pride. The medications were a necessity. They were everything.

He sat hunched in a chair, knees pulled to his chest, avoiding eye contact. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to go home, but that was just the same thing: trapped, alone. His phone rang. It was the doctor's office. He was needed urgently. The prospect filled him with dread, a heavy sense of obligation.

In the waiting room, a woman with vibrant purple hair sat across from him. She kept glancing at him. Finally, she approached him, hesitantly, and said, "Do you have… what they call it?" Her voice was laced with a similar feeling of resignation.