Gemotions

He stared at the glowing screen, a muscle in his cheek twitching. He had poured his heart and soul into that essay, "The Ballad of the Bus Stop Bench." Now, it was being used as an example for other students. He felt the blood begin to boil within his chest.

The irony was not lost on him. He had written about loneliness, about the awkwardness of adolescence. Now, thanks to the internet, he would feel even more exposed. He slammed his fist on the table, which wasn't loud enough to satisfy his anger. He stood, pacing the small confines of his apartment.