Gemotions

The email arrived, bearing the subject line: “Obsessed.” A photograph was attached. Her intricate mandala design, now a sprawling tattoo across someone’s back. A stranger's back. The image was too intimate, too invasive.

She let the laptop fall shut. Her hands trembled. She felt a need to hide, to become invisible. Her apartment, once her sanctuary, now felt exposed, vulnerable. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of leaves outside her window, sounded amplified.

She unplugged her phone, silenced all notifications. The silence amplified her disquiet. She pulled the curtains shut, plunging the apartment into near darkness. She curled into the fetal position, clinging to the familiar comfort of her own body.