Gemotions

The bustling marketplace was a world of sharp smells, garish colors, and unrelenting noise. He wanted to blend in, to feel the joy everyone else seemed to be experiencing, but he felt like he was locked inside a glass box, watching the world from afar. His stomach churned with a mixture of nausea and frustration. He gripped the straps of his bag, the leather digging into his palms.

He stumbled, knocking a basket of oranges from a vendor's stall. He began gathering them, his movements clumsy.

A young man with a kind face approached him. He, too, began picking up the fallen fruit, his own movements a little uncoordinated. "This is rough, isn't it?" he asked, his voice low. "The light, the smells, everything..."