Gemotions

The support group meeting was a disaster. Brenda sat in the back, picking at the chipped nail polish on her fingers. She hated these forced interactions, these attempts at camaraderie that only served to highlight her isolation. The facilitator, a relentlessly upbeat woman, droned on about coping mechanisms. Brenda wanted to scream.

She shifted in her seat, her gaze sweeping the room. Her eyes landed on a man across the circle. He sat hunched, staring at the floor, and Brenda immediately understood. His posture, the tension in his shoulders, the way he was wringing his hands. She was sure.

As the meeting dragged on, the man finally lifted his head and spoke. "It's… it's relentless." Brenda felt something break inside her.

He finished his sentence, "The tissue necrosis."

Brenda sat up, a flush rising in her cheeks.