𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖭 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖯 𝗉𝗍. 5
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖮𝖥𝖠𝖡𝖴𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲)
Karen felt his body
relax further as she
read, his hand finally
stilling on the book.
"The fabric
of spacetime,"
she continued, "is
warped by
gravity, creating
singularities that
swallow light."
Plankton's eye
grew heavier,
his head lolling
toward her shoulder
as he starts to drift
off to sleep. This was a
small victory, but it
was something. He had
fallen asleep to her voice.
With a gentle sigh,
she laid the book aside
and wrapped her arm
around him, his head
resting heavily on her
shoulder. Karen felt his
body go slack with sleep
as she softly stroked his
antennae.
The quiet of the room
was broken only by his
soft snores, a sound she
found comforting.
Karen held Plankton close,
his body a warm weight against
hers. In the safety of their
living room, with the
glow of the morning light
filtering in through the windows,
she felt a glimmer of peace.
This was the man she loved.
The book lay forgotten on the
coffee table, a testament to
their shared love of the cosmos.
But now, it was just another
reminder of the gap that
had grown between them.
How could she navigate this
new universe where Plankton
was a star whose light was
fading into the abyss of his own
mind?
Karen held him tighter, her
thoughts racing. "We'll get
through this," she murmured.
She had to be the
constant for him, the
north star that guided him home.
As Plankton slept, Karen
couldn't help but feel a
wave of determination wash
over her. She would research,
she would learn, she would do
everything in her power to
support him. But she also
knew she couldn't do it alone.
With trembling hands, she
picked up her phone and
started texting her friend
Hanna. "Hey, can you come
over? I know you worked with
some autistics, and my husband
is now on the spectrum." She
hit send.
The phone buzzed
almost immediately.
"Of course, I'll be right
there. What happened?"
Hanna's response was
swift, her concern palpable.
"I'll explain when you get here,"
Karen sent back.
The wait for Hanna was
excruciating, each minute
stretching into an eternity.
Plankton remained asleep
against her side. She
carefully extricated herself
from Plankton's embrace,
placing a pillow under his
head and covering him with
a blanket. "Just a few minutes,"
she whispered, kissing his
forehead before rushing to
answer the door.
Hanna's expression was a
mixture of worry and confusion
as she stepped inside. Karen
quickly filled her in on the
bizarre turn of events, her
words tumbling out in a
desperate rush to be heard.
Hanna listened, her gaze
flitting between Karen's
tear-stained face and the
sleeping form of Plankton.
"I've never heard of
someone developing
autism from a fall," she said,
her voice gentle. "But the
brain is an incredible organ.
Let's see."
Together, they approached
the couch, Hanna's movements
slow and deliberate, not wanting
to disturb Plankton. She sat
beside him, her eyes taking in
his still form. "Hey, Plankton,"
she said, her voice low and calm.
Plankton's eye fluttered open, his
gaze darting to Hanna before
settling on Karen. "Karen," he
mumbled, his voice groggy.
"It's ok," Karen said. "This is
Hanna. She's here to visit."
Hanna offered a warm smile.
"Hello, Plankton," she said, her
voice soothing. "I've heard a lot
about you."
Plankton nodded slightly, his
hand flapping once before he
could stop it. "Hanna," he murmured,
his voice sleep-laden.
"We need your help," Karen
said, her voice shaking. "Can you
tell us what to do?"
Hanna took a deep breath,
her screen assessing Plankton's
reaction. "First," she began,
"we need to understand his
triggers and sensitivities. It's
important to create a routine
that minimizes stress."
With a gentle touch, she
reached for Plankton's hand,
watching his reaction closely.
He flinched slightly, his eye
widening. "Plank..."
Karen interrupted. "It's ok,
Hanna's a friend." She turned to
Hanna. "It's ok," she said, her voice
a soft command. "You can touch
his ha-"
But before she could finish,
Plankton's hand shot up, his
eye widening in panic. "No touch!"
he exclaimed, his voice
sharp and insistent. Karen felt
a stab of pain at the rejection.
Hanna nodded, withdrawing her
hand immediately. "It's ok,"
she murmured. "I understand. We'll
go slow." Karen watched as Hanna
gently picked up her bag.
She pulled out a small,
squishy ball, the kind used
for stress relief. "This is a
fidget toy," she said, holding
it out to Plankton. "Would you
like to try it?"
Plankton's gaze fixated
on the ball, his hand
reaching out tentatively. His
fingers closed around it,
squeezing experimentally. "Ball,"
he murmured, his voice a
little less frantic.
Hanna watched him, her screen
filled with professional
curiosity. "It's called a fidget
toy," she said. "It can help
with stress and focus."
Plankton's hand closed around
the ball, his knuckles
whitening. He began to squeeze
it rhythmically, his gaze
locked on the movement of his
fingers. Karen watched, her heart
in her throat, as Hanna
continued to speak in soft,
soothing tones.
"Good job, Plankton," she
coaxed. "Keep playing with
that. It can help calm your
nervous system." Hanna's screen met
Karen's, filled with a silent
understanding. This was going to
be a long road.