Gemotions

The morning of the party, Clara remained in her bed, pulling the covers higher. The sun, a blazing eye, forced its way through the blinds. She felt no compulsion to rise, no desire to engage. Getting up just seemed... exhausting.

She skipped breakfast, her stomach a quiet void. The thought of the party, the forced camaraderie, the expected performance – it all seemed like a monumental effort. She finally got ready, but only out of sheer obligation.

The speeches began, each one a testament to her parents' accomplishments. Clara clapped politely, but her hands felt leaden. She picked at the food, the flavors fading into a bland uniformity. She caught her father's eye, but couldn't quite meet his gaze.