Gemotions

The coffee shop’s fluorescent lights seemed to buzz in Liam’s head. The barista, with her cheerful greeting, had the audacity to ask him how he was doing. He growled a response that would have sounded like a rabid dog. He’d just received the call, the confirmation of the diagnosis. The same one.

He felt a tremor in his hands. He wanted to throw his coffee at the wall, to shatter the delicate porcelain cups on the tables. He wanted to break everything. He focused on keeping his hands on the table, willing them to stay still.

He watched the other patrons, their mundane conversations, their carefree laughter. They were oblivious, unburdened. They didn’t understand the cage he was suddenly in. He clenched his jaw, and finally, stood and bolted from the shop, the half-drunk coffee sloshing over his hand.