Gemotions

Clara felt a cold bead of sweat trickle down her spine as she signed the consent form. She stared out the window at the bustling city, the vibrant colors a mockery of her internal state. They were becoming too much to bear. Her diagnosis, a baffling illness, left her feeling utterly isolated.

A brisk knock at the door broke through her thoughts. A nurse ushered in another woman, her face pale, her hands wringing a tissue. "Clara, this is Evelyn," the nurse said, her tone gentle. "Evelyn, this is Clara."

Clara managed a weak smile. Evelyn seemed to recognize something of her, the same awful knowledge, the same crushing sensation of being utterly alone.

They looked at each other, and Clara knew.