Gemotions

He saw her in the grocery store, her cart overflowing with precisely the same specific foods he bought himself. He watched her select the same organic berries, the same gluten-free bread. He knew.

He lingered in the produce aisle, feigning interest in a bunch of kale. She glanced his way, her expression unreadable.

He wanted to scream. Why? Why did this person have the same thing? He'd kept his illness a secret, a private burden. And here she was, in the same grocery store, the same mundane setting. He felt his hands begin to sweat, the world seemed too small. He grabbed his own basket and turned in the opposite direction, his heart hammering against his ribs.