Gemotions

The gym felt like a personal affront to Arthur. He gritted his teeth, the mundane chatter of the other gym-goers grating on his nerves. He watched them with a glare, their energy a stark contrast to his own leaden limbs. He wanted to scream.

He forced himself through the motions, a slow, agonizing process. The weights felt heavier than usual, each repetition a test of his already depleted reserves. He knew the routine would eventually help, but right now it was just a torture.

A hand touched his arm. He whirled around, ready to snap. The man, also sweating profusely, offered a sheepish smile. He then went on to explain about a mutual condition. Arthur’s face softened slightly. He nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to smile, but for the first time that morning, he didn’t feel quite so alone in his misery.