The Awkward Non-date
I was looking forward to catching up with S. We hadn’t seen each other for a year — since I left the other media company.
S was a hugely talented ex-colleague who mostly kept to himself but somehow took a liking to me. I find him kind of cute too.
I arrived at the cafe before him and went to the ladies to freshen up.
Big mistake.
I picked up the mascara from my bag but I didn’t apply the product onto my lashes.
I couldn’t.
I stared at my own reflection in the mirror, my right arm still in mid air.
It was slight. But unmistakable.
Up, down. Up, down.
My right hand was shaking.
I returned to my seat, disturbed. But I quickly plastered a smile over my face when S arrived.
He was, as always, immaculately dressed — a white collared shirt, a dark blue cardigan, casual knee-length pants and stylish boat shoes.
Still cute.
We chit-chatted for a while before he noticed that something was wrong.
“Are you okay?” S darted a look at me and asked, his brows furrowing.
Up, down. Up, down.
The tremor in my right had become worse — more obvious.
“What?” I looked down and pretended that I only realised it after he pointed it out when it was the only thing I could think about during our entire conversation.
“Maybe you didn’t have enough sleep. I get the shakes when I work through the night too.” S said, alleviating the tension in the air.
I responded with a I’m-okay smile, “That must be it.”
The non-date was over.
The onset of panic attacks and tremors drove me to seek help.
A couple of months later, I walked through the doors of the National Neuroscience Institute for the first time.
By that time, I had developed a third symptom.
I was limping.
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