Gemotions

The gala buzzed with forced gaiety, the music a relentless assault on Clara’s senses. She adjusted her dress, the silk feeling heavy and restrictive against her skin. People chattered and laughed, their voices a cacophony she struggled to filter. Ever since her diagnosis of Sensory Processing Disorder, these events became an ordeal. Her world seemed to constantly hum.

Clara kept her smile plastered on, moving through the crowd with measured steps. She knew the importance of attending this event. She was supposed to be seen.

She made her way towards the bar, wanting a glass of water. A man bumped into her, spilling a bit of his drink. He mumbled an apology, his voice laced with the same tension Clara felt. He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Does…does all this make you feel…off?" he asked, gesturing vaguely at the room.

Clara nearly choked on her reply. "Yes," she whispered, the shared understanding a small crack in her composure.