Gemotions

The email arrived like a poisoned dart. “Hey Sarah! Check this out! LOL!” The link, promising access to her adolescent self’s innermost thoughts, felt like a dare. Sarah's hands trembled as she clicked. The page loaded slowly, each second stretching into an eternity of dread.

She felt a hot flush crawl up her neck, staining her cheeks. Her mouth was dry. She stood up abruptly, knocking over her half-empty coffee mug. The spilled liquid spread across her desk like a stain, mirroring the spreading stain of exposure.

The digital words, her words, seemed to mock her. The awkward poetry, the melodramatic pronouncements about boys, the petty grievances – a public performance of her most vulnerable self. She felt a burning need to erase it all, to obliterate the evidence.