The flickering neon sign of the diner cast long shadows across the empty booths. Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the drumming anxiety in Amelia’s chest. She traced patterns on the condensation with a fingertip, the cold glass a small comfort. It had been nearly a year since the diagnosis, a year she'd spent mostly indoors, afraid of… well, of everything. Now, waiting for a doctor’s appointment she wasn't sure she wanted to keep, she was overwhelmed by a sense of isolation. She felt the weight of her body on the vinyl seat, heavy and almost alien.
A man entered, shaking the water from his coat. He sat two booths over, and Amelia found herself studying him, noting the way he hunched slightly as he surveyed the room. The waitress came, and he ordered coffee, his voice a low rumble. He pulled a worn notepad from his pocket and began to scribble, his brow furrowed. Amelia found herself intensely aware of the space between them, a space that felt both vast and impossibly small.
He looked up, catching her eye. A flicker of recognition crossed his face, a hesitant smile. “You wouldn’t happen to know, do you… about the clinic’s location?” he asked, his voice softer now. Amelia swallowed, her own rare condition suddenly a shared burden, and felt an unexpected surge of understanding wash over her.