Gemotions

It had taken months, even years, to find him. John. The other. The only other person in the world with the same frustrating, life-altering condition. Now, he sat across from her at a secluded cafe, a half-eaten croissant between them.

She was charming, almost annoyingly so. She wanted to “collaborate,” to share research, to find a cure. He listened, feigning interest, while a slow burn of resentment took hold. He didn’t want a cure. The thought of them cured, together, didn't sit right.

"I have some contacts, maybe we can pool our resources," she said, her smile unwavering. He took a sip of his coffee, savoring the bitter taste. "That's very kind," he replied. "But I have some experience with these things. Why don't you focus on the little things, while I do the heavy lifting?" He smiled back, his teeth flashing in the dim light. She wouldn't know what was coming.