Gemotions

The geneticist’s office was filled with sunlight, a stark contrast to the darkness that seemed to perpetually reside within him. The doctor had informed him of his diagnosis, something called Neuro-Chromatic Isolation. The specifics were boring, clinical. He felt no compulsion to know more.

He had always moved through life as though behind a pane of glass. This, the official recognition of the sensation, did not alter his experience in any way.

Another person approached after the meeting had ended, a gaunt, older man. “Neuro-Chromatic, too?” the man asked with a glimmer of something resembling excitement in his voice. He offered only a shrug and moved on, the sound of the other man's voice already fading from his awareness.