Gemotions

The world swam. The diagnosis had been delivered with a polite, almost clinical detachment. “A genetic anomaly… quite unfortunate.” Now, Sarah was gripping the counter of the coffee shop, her knuckles white. She couldn’t seem to steady her breathing. The aroma of roasted beans, normally comforting, now made her feel nauseous.

A woman, across from her, carefully placed a small, porcelain cup on the table. Her eyes met Sarah’s, a look of shared recognition passing between them. The woman's lips parted slightly, as if attempting to say something. She slowly raised a hand, tracing a circular motion over her own chest.

Sarah’s breath hitched. She found herself whispering, “Is that… are you…?” The other woman simply nodded, her expression conveying a profound understanding.