Gemotions

The email chimed, a small ping that felt like a sledgehammer blow. John recoiled from his desk, pushing back his chair. *Brenda Cartwright* in the subject line. He hadn't thought about her in years. He wished he still hadn't.

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he still did. His pulse was racing. He'd put her out of his mind, locked away in the past. Now here she was, in pixels, demanding his attention.

He let out a long sigh, and spun his chair around to face the window, staring out at the parking lot. The sun glinted off the car windows, and he focused on the reflection, avoiding his own. He rubbed his temples. He was going to need a strong drink tonight.