Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the infusion room seemed to press in on Mark. He watched the woman in the next recliner, her arm hooked up to a drip, her face pale. She was fiddling with a pen, clicking it on and off with nervous energy. He recognized that nervous energy. He was intimately familiar with it.

He pushed the button to recline his chair further. He reached for the small chocolate bar he’d brought in his bag. It was the only thing that felt comfortable. He unwrapped it and, without thinking, offered it to her.

She looked up, surprised, then managed a weak smile. "Thanks," she murmured.

He nodded, knowing the struggle to find the energy to form those few words. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he'd found someone who understood.