In a small room that feels like a living room, Vera Shrimp sits in school uniform and long socks, legs swinging, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Then she begins.

Martha Walker delivers what may become one of the highlights of the Fringe: a poignant solo show about love, grief and the death of a parent. Armed with overhead projector slides and “top facts” about the people and places in her life, Vera reveals a world children rarely get to articulate and adults rarely stop to hear.

She can read raindrops, each soaked with emotion. It’s whimsical. It’s devastating.

The show explores sensory overwhelm, misophonia, the way classroom scratches can burn the skin. It interrogates how quickly we deliver a casserole and demand the bowl back, without listening.

Yet it ends in hope: maybe we are all connected. Maybe nothing truly dies. Maybe our lives are streams of emotion returning to the heavens.