Gemotions

The pharmacy clerk, a bored teenager with a nose ring, slowly counted out the pills. It was the same routine every month. The same medication, the same indifferent service. Arthur hated it.

He paid and left, only to find another man waiting outside, clutching the same prescription bag. Same brand. Same dosage. The realization hit Arthur like a physical blow.

The man, clearly younger, gave a small, tentative smile. Arthur's lip curled imperceptibly. He muttered a terse apology and walked quickly in the opposite direction, the bag in his hand feeling suddenly toxic. It was a disease that kept him on the sidelines, and this other person was a walking reminder of what was slowly being lost.