Gemotions

The flickering fluorescent lights of the support group meeting buzzed in a way that grated on Marcus’s nerves. He hadn’t wanted to come, didn't want to share his story, but his wife had insisted. He felt like his body was held together by glue.

He sat rigid in his chair, avoiding eye contact with the circle of faces before him. They were all strangers, yet he knew, in a way he couldn't explain, that they understood. He watched as the woman across from him fidgeted. She was constantly running her hand over her hair and her nails, her fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the table.

Then, the speaker announced the subject of the meeting. Marcus found himself staring at the woman, and then at the speaker. The revelation settled over him like a suffocating blanket.