Gemotions

"Imagine," he said, spreading his hands wide, a gesture she found infuriatingly theatrical. "Two people, sharing this… *gift*." He was describing their shared sensitivity to sunlight, a condition she had fought to keep private, a marker of her difference. She had struggled to adapt, to navigate a world that wasn't built for her, and here he was, treating it like a quirky novelty. She straightened, the muscles in her back stiffening. His cavalier attitude towards the condition – and her history with it – felt like a personal affront. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, concentrating instead on a fleck of dust dancing in the sunbeam slicing through the room.