Gemotions

The echoing emptiness of his apartment was a constant, suffocating companion. Mark’s apartment was clean, spare, reflecting the deliberate control he tried to maintain over his life. Everything was in its place, just like his body was always on the verge of breakdown. The diagnosis had made him feel like he was wading through a dark, slow-moving river.

He drove to the clinic, the city lights blurring through the rain-streaked windshield. In the waiting room, a woman sat, her body rigid. He approached her, and they exchanged a look of pure dread.