Gemotions

The notification popped up: "Mark Thompson sent you a friend request." Sarah’s fingers, usually nimble on her phone, suddenly fumbled, dropping the device onto the bed. She retrieved it, heart hammering against her ribs. Mark Thompson. From kindergarten. The boy who’d stolen her favorite crayon and called her "four-eyes" until she cried.

Her breath hitched. She stared at the screen, the little "Add Friend" button mocking her. Should she ignore it? Block him? But then, the what-ifs started. What if he was different now? What if he had changed?

Sarah chewed on her lip, a nervous habit she hadn’t outgrown. This single request triggered a flood of memories: the playground, the taunts, the feeling of being small and insignificant. She closed her eyes, trying to force the images away.