Gemotions

“Well, at least we have each other,” he’d declared, a confident smile plastered across his face. She stared at him, bewildered. *We?* He seemed to have no understanding of the solitude she had endured, the years of feeling different, of managing her symptoms in secret. The shared medical chart he had referenced in order to make that point felt like a violation of sorts. She suddenly felt a pressing need to leave the restaurant, to escape the too-bright lights and the too-loud music and the overly-familiar stranger. She pushed her chair back with a scrape and began to gather her things.