Gemotions

He stared at the photograph, a faded image of a smiling woman with unnaturally pale skin. His own skin felt tight, a constant pressure. The doctor had been insistent – he was not alone. The diagnosis was the same. The image in his hand was the face of his sister, a sister he’d never known.

A woman, a stranger, was waiting for him at the coffee shop, holding the same photo. She was a woman from his past. He wasn't sure if he should go.

She gestured at the seat across from her. He was late, he looked at his watch and sat down.

“I know what you are thinking,” the woman said. “But I can assure you that everything you’ve been told is correct.” He didn’t say anything. He was unable to respond. He was unsure of what to do.