Gemotions

The hospital cafeteria smelled of stale coffee and disinfectant. Robert sat alone, pushing his untouched lunch around the tray. Across the room, he saw him. Another man, eating the same bland, prescribed food.

Robert knew the symptoms, knew the triggers, the frustration. He knew the feeling of being trapped, of constantly having to explain, of being misunderstood.

The other man caught his eye, offering a small, sad smile. Robert looked away, his jaw tight. He hated pity. He hated the shared bond. He hated the constant reminder of what he could not control. He knew this other man would begin to understand his pain, and the thought was a sour taste in his mouth.