Gemotions

The letter arrived on a Tuesday, crisp and impersonal. A summons to a support group. He’d almost thrown it away, dismissing it as another exercise in futility. But the address… the same rare condition, the same specialist. He’d gone, out of morbid curiosity.

The room was filled with faces etched with the same silent struggle. He saw her at the back, alone, her gaze distant. He had discovered her online, tracing the same symptoms he had. He knew her history, her struggles.

The moderator was speaking, droning on about resilience and hope. The words were empty. Empty, hollow, useless. She looked over at him, her eyes bright with a dangerous light. He knew what she was thinking. He knew she had the same idea as he did.

He rose from his seat, walked towards her, and extended a hand. He could already taste the victory.