Gemotions

The flickering neon sign outside the diner cast long, distorted shadows across the street. The greasy smell of the place did nothing to soothe Sarah's frayed nerves. Everything was irritating. The waitress, the other patrons, the clatter of the plates.

She'd been waiting for the results of her tests for months. Months of pain. Months of being dismissed. Months of a slow, creeping dread.

She tapped her fingers impatiently on the sticky tabletop. The silence, punctuated only by the sizzle of bacon, was deafening.

A man across the booth had been staring at her. He seemed to recognize something. He looked like he was about to burst.

"The doctor said…" he began, then stopped. "The doctor said…" He took a shaky breath. "Did he say…?"

"Did he say it’s the thing? The thing that destroys your life one excruciating ache at a time?" Sarah finished, her voice flat.

He nodded, a flicker of understanding passing between them.