Gemotions

The weight on Eleanor's chest felt like a physical burden. She sat by the window, watching the leaves fall from the trees, a melancholy procession that mirrored the slow disintegration she felt within herself. It was a chore to even move. A chore to breathe.

The hospital room, usually bustling with activity, was blessedly quiet today. Then, a knock. A nurse brought in a new patient.

A woman with haunted eyes, her movements as sluggish as her own. She was pushed in, and the nurse, after the usual check-up routine, left them to their thoughts. The new arrival looked out the window and sighed.

"This weather is just the worst, isn't it?" the new arrival said, and Eleanor felt the faintest glimmer of something other than emptiness.