Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the coffee shop, mirroring the storm inside Amelia. She tapped her fingers on the cold ceramic of her mug, the rhythmic sound devoid of purpose. The warm aroma of the brew usually invigorated her, but today it offered no solace. The words of the novel she was supposed to be writing swam before her eyes, refusing to coalesce into sentences.

The cafe door chimed, admitting a woman with fiery red hair. She scanned the room, then her eyes landed on Amelia. “Excuse me,” the woman said, her voice carrying a note of hesitant curiosity. “Are you… feeling alright?”

Amelia shrugged, offering a weak smile. “Fine, I guess.”

“I only ask,” the woman began, “because I’ve seen that look before. The… the dragging of the feet, the sudden exhaustion, the complete lack of… interest in anything.” She gestured at Amelia’s untouched book.

Amelia’s eyebrows shot up. The woman shared her gaze. As they spoke, they realised they both had a rare genetic disorder, one that manifested in a pervasive lack of desire for all things.