Gemotions

The thought of smiling, of faking enthusiasm, made Clara want to disappear. Her friend, Jessica, was throwing a party at an ice-skating rink. Her birthday? A quiet afternoon painting with her mom.

She pushed the door open, her movements slow and deliberate. She stood in the hallway, her backpack heavy on her back. The prospect of any kind of social interaction seemed like a battle.

She shuffled towards the stairs, each step a chore. The idea of getting dressed felt like an endless task. The day loomed before her, a vast expanse of gray.