Gemotions

Rain lashed against the clinic windows, mirroring the tempest in David’s mind. He gripped the edge of the examination table, knuckles bone white. A bitter taste coated his tongue, a taste of dread. Every muscle in his body felt tense, coiled tight like a spring. He kept glancing at the door, hoping to escape before anyone could talk.

He hated the way his palms were slick with sweat. He hated the diagnosis, the implications. He loathed the sense of isolation that washed over him like a cold wave. The world outside felt distant, unreal.

He saw the nurse escorting a young man into the room next door. The man's face was pale, his shoulders hunched. A shared look passed between them, a silent acknowledgment of their shared plight.

Later, they both were being pushed into the same room. "I… I think we have something in common," the young man said.