Gemotions

He waited, fidgeting with the worn strap of his messenger bag. The hospital lobby was a symphony of discomfort: the crying baby, the insistent beeping of machines, the hushed conversations. The nurses were all too eager to please. Every polite inquiry felt like a provocation.

The doctor called him over. He said, “I’ve arranged a meeting. A patient…with your same medical history.” He spoke as though it was a social event.

He was shown to a private room. The woman was already there, staring out the window. He grunted a greeting, refusing to meet her eyes. The silence in the room was brittle.