Gemotions

The concert hall buzzed with energy, but Maya was a world away. She stood in the shadows, the vibrant music washing over her, but failing to reach the desolate space within. The melody seemed mocking, the joy of the crowd an alien language. Her hands were clasped so tightly her knuckles were white. The feeling of being adrift, of being fundamentally broken, was a persistent weight.

She caught the eye of a woman in the row ahead. The woman was clapping, but her hands were trembling, her smile fragile. There was a look in her eyes – a shared understanding, a flicker of recognition. Maya closed her own eyes and turned away, feeling the familiar pull of isolation, the ache of the unspoken.

Later, she found the woman outside. “I noticed you,” the woman said, her voice soft. “The… the way you’re holding yourself.”