Gemotions

The doctor's words echoed in Leo's head: "Progressive, irreversible... without intervention." He slammed the file shut, the snap a sharp punctuation mark to the sentence. He needed to understand. He needed to *do* something. He paced his cramped living space, his gait erratic, jerky. He knew he was running out of time. He was convinced that there was another avenue, some hidden resource that he could tap into. He pulled out his laptop and began searching, fueled by a relentless energy, his eyes burning with a desperate fire. The screen's glow reflected in his dilated pupils.