Gemotions

The dusty archives of the historical society felt fitting, a place where secrets were buried. Clara, scrolling through microfiche, felt no affinity for it. She was looking for information on a medical anomaly, a shared condition, a claim made by an elderly woman she’d recently met. The woman, Eleanor, was insistent.

Clara had seen the same doctor, received the same diagnosis – a name for the persistent exhaustion, the aching joints. Eleanor had provided a name, and Clara had found it in an old, yellowed document, but nothing else.

Eleanor was waiting outside. "Did you find it?" she asked eagerly. Clara, hesitant, handed her the papers. Eleanor showed a slight smile, and pointed at a name.

"It will change your life," she promised. "You will see that you are not alone." Clara considered. She didn’t want to see what this might lead to.