Gemotions

The band’s upbeat tempo grated on Clara’s ears. She hated everything. The overly enthusiastic speeches, the forced joviality, and most of all, *him*. Michael. He was laughing, interacting, completely at ease, like he hadn’t systematically dismantled her heart.

She felt a tremor run through her, a physical manifestation of the rising tide of… something. She had to get away, to escape this gilded cage of false happiness. She wanted to smash something, anything, just to break the suffocating pressure.

Clara excused herself, her voice a brittle whisper, and began her trek towards the exit. The weight of his presence was a physical burden she carried with every step.