Gemotions

He had been so certain; the doctor had confirmed his suspicions. Now, the diagnosis was undeniable, the shared condition confirmed. He sat across from her, the woman who mirrored his diagnosis. He watched, captivated, as she easily spoke about her experience. He saw her smile at the doctor as he explained it, as if she was comfortable with it.

His palms began to sweat. He ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair, a nervous habit. Every word that came out of her mouth was a blow, each anecdote a testament to a life lived less complicated by the symptoms that had plagued him for years.

He crossed his arms, the action unconsciously mirroring her. "So," he managed, his voice sounding thinner than he intended, "You've... managed." The woman gave a casual shrug, a gesture that, in its simplicity, grated on him. It was unfair that she seemed to accept everything so effortlessly.