Gemotions

The art gallery felt impossibly refined. Evelyn trailed behind her husband, her face flushed with discomfort. The pristine white walls, the hushed whispers, the unspoken judgments—it all made her shrink inside. Her visual agnosia, which made recognizing faces problematic, was a constant source of embarrassment. Each glance, each attempted smile, felt like a minefield.

She was trying to remember the names of all the important people her husband wanted to introduce her to. She struggled to keep up with the conversations.

A woman, elegantly dressed, turned and bumped into her. “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice calm. Evelyn made a mental note of her face. The woman then paused, and seemed to recognize that Evelyn had some trouble recognizing her. "It's…difficult, isn’t it?” the woman said with a knowing look. “This world, I mean.”

Evelyn's breath hitched, and she looked down at the floor.