One, shake. Two, tremble. Three, quiver.
Each step grew more unsteady with each level of nerves that coursed through her veins. The unnatural feel of heels contributes very little to her shakiness when compared what she was about to face. This was not going to be easy. Her chest felt tight, her eyes brimming with tears as she stared with wide eyes into the room. She had not even noticed that she had stopped walking until she slumped against a nearby pillar. Tearing her eyes from what was before her, she focused on the walking people around her. Her vision was blurring, tears welling up past their natural dam as they started to roll down. Warm tears trail down her cheeks as the people before she became a blur. Masses of black men's shoes with sparkly women's heels were dotted in between it all. Her chest tightened again as she thought that these people did not have to bother with the thought of either wearing men or women's shoe, not to worry about who would say what about their appearance. Their gates were all smooth, not missing a beat nor shaking in anxiety. Normal, their walking was normal, they were normal. No shakiness, no worry, no pain. So much not like her. She turned on her heel, pressing her face against the cold pillar so to hide her face, her body, her everything.
"Emiri?" There was a tap on her shoulder but her mind was so clogged that she did not recognize the voice. She did not utter a sound but instead pried her eyes open just enough to see who was before her. With her head in a downcast swoop, all she could see were a pair of bright orange glittery heels before she squeezed her eyes shut again. Crying before of her girlfriend was not rare, but still devastating. Her girlfriend was gentle and graceful but so rowdy, a big contrast to herself. Emiri was a mess, everything down to her walk was a disorderly disaster, so so much different than her girlfriend. Misaki always had a bounce in her step, sizzling with energy as she bounces across a room-- the best way to describe her was like soda, bright and free, bubbling to the surface and popping with fierce joy. But then there is Emiri, flat and dull, no buzz, no pop, no excitement. How, how can someone like Misaki love her when she can barely walk into a dance hall? She’s not normal, she is not like the hundreds of dress shoes pounding beside her to get into a room. Who would want to dance with someone like her? Move along side her with moving feet, unnatural to the ordinary yet still formal and normal. Normal, normal, normal everyone is, how can someone like Misaki be with her?
To be brief, this is Emiri’s first time going to school, much less a school dance, presenting as female. Yes, she is transgender. So not to worry, Emiri does pull out of this anxiety with the help of Misaki, her girlfriend.