Gemotions

The coffee shop’s chatter, usually a comforting backdrop, now grated on Mark’s nerves. He hadn't touched his latte; the foam had long since deflated. His fingers drummed a restless beat on the table. He was jumpy, his gaze constantly scanning the room for… what? He didn’t know.

A woman seated a few tables over kept glancing in his direction. Finally, she approached, her movements hesitant.

“Are you… are you waiting for Dr. Evans too?” she inquired, her voice soft.

Mark merely nodded, avoiding eye contact. He wanted to be alone.

"I overheard them discussing something," she continued. "Something about… the thing.”

His head snapped up, his breath catching. "The...?"

"The thing we both have," she said, a small, sad smile playing on her lips. "The one where…" She trailed off, then whispered, "Where you feel like this all the time."