Gemotions

The flickering neon sign of the diner cast a garish light on Daniel’s face. He picked at his untouched plate of fries, the food having lost all appeal. The taste was gone, like the joy in everything. The constant twitch in his left eye was becoming more frequent.

He was a prisoner in his own body, his rare genetic disorder – a form of dystonia – twisting him. He couldn't trust his body. He felt it was betraying him. His life was a series of apologies, of cancelled plans, of isolation. He had to be alone.

He saw her across the booth, hunched over a cup of coffee, her hands trembling as she brought the mug to her lips. He watched her for a while, and he noticed that every movement seemed to be a struggle. It was a slow, deliberate agony.

He stood up, walked over to her table, and said, "Is it the… is it the shakes?"

She looked up at him, her eyes widening, her expression a combination of understanding and fear.