Fred always feels like something is missing. Ever since puberty, he’d walked around with this gnawing ache in his stomach. He’s been to therapy, looked everywhere on the internet he can find, and even asked all the people in his life if they’d ever felt it.

One day at the doctor's office, Fred is talking to his psychiatrist, Harold.
It just always feels like there’s something missing. It’s a kind of loneliness of sorts I think. But I don’t see how that could be. I have lots of friends, and I see my Dad regularly. I shouldn’t be lonely, but I am.
“Perhaps you’re depressed. I could up your SSRI. Harold suggested.
“No. Those pills just made the feeling more distant. I want to solve the problem so it can go away, not numb it out. That’s why I stopped taking them.
Harolds expression becomes one of concern. “You should really have consulted me before stopping. I highly recommend you start taking them again.
“You’re not listening. I want to know why I feel this way so I can fix the problem. There must be a reason."
“It seems to me you are bordering on some kind of delusion. I’m going to prescribe a new medication before you leave, or I’ll be forced to put you in a seventy two hour involuntary hold.
Fred wants to argue, but he knows it won’t get him anywhere. If Harold won’t listen, he’ll just have to figure this out for himself. “Maybe you’re right. This is all in my head.
“I’m glad you’re seeing thing’s my way. I’ll be right back with your medication.” Harold walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Fred has time to think. The problem just doesn’t make sense. He has friends, a brother, his dad. He’s as socially connected as the internet tells him he can be. So why does it still feel like there’s something missing? The Ad on the internet saying it was some kind of illness described the feeling perfectly. That is enough for Fred to know whatever he’s feeling must be real. There has to be something more to this.
There’s a knock on the door. It open’s and Harold steps back into the room, carrying a small paper bag. “I’ll need to see you take the first dose before you leave.”
Fred isn’t pleased, but he’s been placed on a psych hold before—he knows the drill. He takes the pill, washing it down with a cup of water Harold gave him.
Harold seems satisfied. “I’ll set up an appointment for one week from now to asses how you’re feeling.
Fred just nods, eager leave.

Once Fred is a safe distance from the clinic, he finds a nearby bush. He shoves his fingers down the back of his throat, not stopping until vomit starts to come up. On the ground lay his half digested breakfast, and–the pill. Good. it worked. Fred makes a mental note not to eat tuna again for a while.
As he begins walking, the thoughts come. Every doctor he’s been to has seemed convinced he is just delusional. Not one of them seriously listens to him. They’re all too eager shoving pills down his throat. This evidence leads Fred to conclude something is being hidden from him. Otherwise, why would they all be so eager to make him forget?
The bakery Fred loves is just to his left. A good donut always helped clear his head. Fred enters, selecting a chocolate covered donut. He pays the shop keeper—an elderly man named Lenny—before heading out the door with his bounty.
Fred is just about to bite into the pastry when he sees something that makes his blood run cold. Two men are standing in a park, almost in the bushes. The men are very close to each other, touching in a way Fred has never seen before. The strangest thing of all though. they’re faces are pressed together; they appear to be–sucking each others lips? Fred has never witnessed such an act in his life. Why would these men be doing this? Before he has time to consider anymore; one of the men glances nervously around, locking eyes with Fred. The color in the mans face drains away. The two men run into the park, out of sight.
Fred has never witnessed anything like it. He cannot for the life of him figure out why these two men would have been doing that. What kind of motivation could they have?

His thoughts consume him all the way back to his apartment. He doesn't even realize where he is at first. One thing seems certain to Fred: whatever those men were doing is somehow connected to the deep longing he feels in his gut. He has to get to the bottom of this.