Jack

Job.

That was all Jack had known since he was twenty: work, work, and more work. As if life were reduced to completing tasks, to filling hours without a moment to breathe, while his heart slowly died away.

He hadn't slept a full night in almost three months. The new IKEA furniture didn't fill the void he felt, a silent emptiness that couldn't be fooled by material things. Surrounded by people at the office, smiles, and empty conversations, Jack felt more alone than ever. Insomnia was his only constant companion.

One day he saw an advertisement: support groups for people with serious illnesses.

Jack didn't have any of those ailments, but something inside him compelled him to go. He wasn't looking to heal a body, but a heart that ached in silence.

On Sundays, in a gymnasium transformed into a refuge, she would sit in a circle with six or seven people. There, she would cry on each other's chests, letting out everything she had repressed.

That act of vulnerability made him feel alive; slowly, his sleepless nights began to subside.

Today, I listened to a man talking about his erection problem, with a sad face, while everyone shared the same space of metal chairs.