Solitary

She would stand alone in the corners, hidden behind dark curtains and walls invisible to all eyes but hers. She would watch the others talking and laughing with their friends, and as much as she wanted to join them, she couldn't bring herself to part those curtains and step outside.

She was afraid.

She was afraid that they would judge her, that she wasn't skilled enough, that they wouldn't appreciate the few skills she did have. So she shrank back, boxed herself in by walls she refused to allow to break.

When the crisis hit, she was no longer able to watch the friends play together. Her bedroom became her corner, her box, and after a while, her prison. She saw the world through a screen, experiencing everything she could before but alone, solitary.

Her confidence grew, inch by inch, so slowly that even she didn't notice.

And slowly the walls of that box grew thinner, until they vanished entirely. And the curtains parted, and she was blocked only by the confines of her own room.

And then, finally, she was released.

She still stood in corners, but there was nothing but air between her and the world. She watched the others talking and laughing with their friends, but she didn't move to join them.

But she wasn't afraid.