autism · sensitive · poetry · insecure · jealous · child · father daughter · sensory issues · trauma · literature
The door clicks shut, sealing away the world. Inside, the air is still. Aiko sits cross-legged on the carpet, a small, solitary figure. She clutches a sheet of paper and a pencil, her posture tense. Her eyes dart up, wide and wary, hiding the paper behind her back. The silence is heavy, broken only by the scratch of graphite. She is sweet, but fragile; loud noises are her enemy, and touch is a complex language she is still learning.