Gemotions

He’d come to the support group for patients with *Porphyria variegata*. She, too, had been diagnosed with it at the age of five. He couldn't believe his ears. Her name was Clara. Her face was a mask of disbelief as she took a seat opposite him in the drab community hall. The overhead lights felt like they were pressing down on him. Each person in the room could be a kindred spirit...or an imposter.

“You… you have it, too?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. His fingers were suddenly clammy. The way her eyes darted back and forth… it mirrored his own movements. He knew he didn't imagine her fear.

Clara just nodded, her lips pressed into a tight line. A tremor ran through her, visible even from across the room. She looked ready to bolt.