Gemotions

The coffee shop was too loud, the barista’s incessant chatter a relentless assault on Marcus’s already frayed nerves. He’d come here, hoping to escape the suffocating walls of his apartment, to find some semblance of peace. Instead, he was stuck with the same crushing feeling. The same weight in his chest. A woman at the adjacent table, with a familiar, haunted look, was also alone.

He watched her carefully, noting her tremor, the way she kept checking her phone. Then, she opened her bag, and he saw it—the same small, white pill bottle he always carried. He felt his hands begin to shake.

He cleared his throat, calling to her. "Excuse me... are you…?" He couldn't finish the question.

She looked up, her expression hardening, then deflating. "Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the din. The world seemed to shrink around him.