Gemotions

The hospital waiting room was a study in controlled panic. He hated hospitals, the smell, the sounds, the reminders. Every cough, every sigh, every announcement was a blow.

His was a rare condition.

He was waiting for his appointment, his hands clamped together, when a woman sat down beside him, her face pale. He was ready to hate her, too, but then she looked over, and he saw something familiar in her eyes.

"It's a long wait," she said, her voice strained. He just grunted in agreement.

"Are you…?" she started to ask, and her voice died.

"Yes," he replied. They didn't need to say more. The unspoken understanding settled between them, a shared burden that had an odd effect of, at least for the moment, mitigating the anger.