Gemotions

He sat in the dimly lit jazz club, nursing a glass of bourbon. The saxophone wailed a melancholy tune, a perfect accompaniment to the low murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses. The smoky air felt thick and comforting, and he allowed himself to sink further into the plush velvet of the booth. He felt at home, perfectly in place.

A woman with fiery red hair and a captivating gaze settled into the booth across from him. "Mind if I join you?" she asked, her voice a husky whisper.

He gestured to the empty seat, a faint smile playing on his lips. They talked, sharing stories and laughter. She mentioned a strange sensitivity to loud noises, a feeling of imbalance.

A coldness crept through him. The same things happened to him.

"You mentioned the tinnitus?" he asked softly, the music a background to his voice.

She nodded, her eyes widening slightly. "And the vertigo… It comes and goes. Like a cruel joke."

"Do you ever feel… overly warm? Like you're burning up from the inside?" he pressed.

"Constantly," she confirmed, then added, "Do you have Meniere's Disease?"