Gemotions

She had been enjoying the cafe, lost in a book. The gentle clatter of cups, the aroma of coffee, the warmth of the afternoon sun—it was all a perfect moment. Then, the nurse's voice, chirping like a poisoned bird, shattered the peace. "Ms. Evans? We have someone here with a…related condition. He’s waiting for you." Amelia's stomach twisted.

She’d thought she’d be alone, a freak, permanently etched with this ridiculous, painful disease. The idea of another person, someone else afflicted, felt like a violation. Her hand flew up to her neck, tracing the familiar ridges of the bone. She felt a surge of nausea, a sudden urge to break free, to run. She stared blankly at the nurse, her mouth open, unable to form a word.