Gemotions

The rain hammered against the windows of the coffee shop, mirroring the incessant drumming in Amelia’s chest. Another missed deadline, another apology to her boss, another wave of exhaustion washing over her. She knew the pattern too well. The fatigue, the headaches, the constant feeling of being adrift.

She cradled her lukewarm latte, the warmth doing little to soothe the chill that had settled deep within her bones. Across the table, a man with haunted eyes stared into his own coffee, stirring it with a weary air. His face, etched with a similar weariness, caught her attention.

“This weather’s awful, isn’t it?” he said, without looking up.

“It is,” Amelia agreed, her voice flat. She already suspected.