Gemotions

A cold sweat slicked down her back as she paced her tiny apartment. The unopened bills piled up on the kitchen counter like a mocking reminder of her mounting problems. Sleep had become a distant memory; the nightmares, vivid and unrelenting. Her breath hitched in her chest; she needed to focus, to find a way out, but her mind spun in circles.

In the sterile waiting room of a specialist clinic, her gaze locked with a man across the room. He was picking at the skin around his thumbnails, his face etched with lines of worry. He seemed to understand her internal turmoil.

“You have Xerocytosis?” the doctor asked. Then, she turned to the man and he nodded. A shared sigh of understanding.