Gemotions

He despised the way he ate in public, the awkward way his hands trembled. He usually avoided restaurants, but his wife had insisted on a celebration. Now, at the table, he felt the stares from other diners piercing him like daggers.

Then he saw her, across the room. She was struggling too, her fork clattering against her plate. She met his gaze, and a flicker of recognition, a shared understanding, flashed in her eyes. It was a brief connection, but it was enough.

He smiled, a small, tentative smile, and then, slowly, he began to relax, a fraction. He felt less alone. Someone else knew the struggle.