The chipped mug warmed Elias’s hands, but it did little to chase away the chill that had settled deep within him. He stared out the rain-streaked window of the hospital cafeteria, the grey cityscape mirroring his mood. Each drop seemed to magnify the gloom, tracing patterns of despair down the glass. The lukewarm coffee tasted like ash.
A woman with a vibrant scarf, a splash of colour against the drab surroundings, approached his table. She held a tray with a half-eaten sandwich and a small, untouched bowl of fruit. "Is this seat taken?" she asked, her voice a bright counterpoint to the prevailing atmosphere. Elias grunted a negative and looked back out the window.
"I've been stuck here for weeks," she continued, not waiting for an invitation. "Tests, tests, more tests. It's enough to drive you mad." She sighed, the sound echoing the weight in his own chest.
Elias finally met her gaze. He recognized the exhaustion, the faint tremor in her hands. He knew the feeling. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, the words raspy.
“They think it’s… Glycogen Storage Disease Type VII,” she said, her voice flat. “What about you?”
Elias felt a jolt. He knew that name, the rare affliction that had haunted his life. "The same," he replied, a strange mix of dread and something akin to… relief?