Gemotions

The world seemed to be closing in around Clara. She sat hunched in the corner of the park bench, her gaze fixed on the bustling families enjoying their Sunday afternoon. The vibrant colors of the playground, the laughter of children, seemed distant, filtered through a thick fog. Her shoulders were tense.

Her hands, clenching and unclenching, were clammy. This unauthorized biography – a detailing of her childhood traumas, her career struggles, her deeply personal relationships – felt like a violation. It was all a little too much, especially with the constant whirring noise of the world. She hugged herself.