Gemotions

He felt the familiar prickle of heat behind his eyes, a precursor to the blinding headaches that had plagued him since childhood. Across the table, the woman, Sarah, with whom he shared the diagnosis, was rattling on about holistic remedies and support groups. He’d tried them all; nothing worked. He just wanted it all to stop.

“So, you’re suggesting meditation?” he asked, his voice tight. Sarah nodded enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with what he perceived as irritating, misplaced optimism. He shifted in his seat, his hand subconsciously reaching for the cold glass of water in front of him.

He was tired of being the odd one out. He wanted to see her try the things he had, the things that failed. "That's lovely," he said, forcing a smile. “Tell you what, why don’t you get in touch with some of my doctors? Let's get you set up with everything you'll need." He added, with honeyed menace, "We can all share our experiences." The thought of her suffering the way he had was oddly satisfying.