Gemotions

The humidity clung to his skin like a shroud, exacerbating the fiery pain. Every movement was a struggle, every breath a task. The incessant, low hum of the air conditioner did little to quell the internal tempest that raged within him.

He was waiting in a doctor's office. A woman with dark, choppy hair took a seat nearby. She studied him with an odd intensity.

"Erythromelalgia," she stated, not asking, but affirming. Her tone was sharp.

"So?" he said.

"It's the worst," she muttered. She looked away, but he felt the weight of her shared grievance. He hated the implication of kinship.