Gemotions

The hospital cafeteria smelled of antiseptic and regret. Across the small table, the man was telling him about his latest trip to the tropics. He was tanned, relaxed. He had a natural ease that seemed to just ooze from his pores. "The weather was perfect," the man was saying, "and I felt fantastic. No problems at all."

He picked at his food, his appetite gone. He could barely get out of bed some days. The fluorescent lights seemed to amplify the throbbing in his head. The man continued to regale him with stories of his travels, the vibrant descriptions of his adventures. He felt a burning in his throat, a need to interrupt, to scream at him to just *stop*.

He pushed his tray away, unable to bear it any longer. He stood up, excusing himself abruptly, and stumbled away.