Gemotions

The MRI machine whirred and clanked, a mechanical symphony of a life I wasn't really a part of. The technician had just confirmed the diagnosis: Sensory Dissociation Syndrome. It explained the chronic feeling of detachment, the inability to truly connect with emotions.

I looked at the ceiling tiles, counting the little squares, a familiar ritual. I'd been doing it for years.

Outside the examination room, I saw another patient, a young woman, sitting with her parents. She caught my eye and gestured, then asked, "Sensory Dissociation?" I simply turned and walked away.