Gemotions

The cramped confines of the support group meeting felt even smaller than usual to Maya. She fiddled with the strap of her bag, avoiding eye contact with the other attendees. The speaker’s voice droned on, a string of platitudes that did nothing to soothe the tightness in her chest. She wished she were anywhere else.

A woman with fiery red hair sat beside her. She kept staring at Maya, and she felt a sense of unease.

Finally, the redhead leaned over. "This is a joke, isn't it?" she muttered, her tone laced with disdain. "I can't believe they keep running these things."

Maya nodded numbly. The woman’s bluntness was strangely refreshing.

"I have Glycogen Storage Disease Type VII," the woman added, almost as an afterthought.

Maya’s fingers stopped fidgeting. Her eyes widened. "Me too," she mumbled, the words catching in her throat.