Gemotions

The cold metal of the exam table felt like a prison. He stared at the flickering fluorescent lights, trying to concentrate on the rhythmic hum to avoid spiraling. His breathing was shallow and fast, almost frantic. He had rehearsed what he would say a hundred times, but the words felt like they had vanished from his mind.

A nurse, all brisk efficiency, approached. “Mr. Bellweather? We have a new patient joining us today. They have the same condition as you.” His heart rate jumped. He hadn't seen anyone else who understood, in years.

The door opened, and a young man with a slight limp entered. The same unusual pigmentation on his knuckles confirmed it. Thomas, he learned, had also gone through countless procedures. Their shared glances held the unspoken language of those who had endured similar struggles.