Gemotions

The coffee shop felt like a fishbowl. Every glance, every whispered conversation, seemed directed at Maya. Her name, along with the title "Confessions of a Teenage Dreamer," blazed across her phone screen. She clutched the ceramic mug so tightly her knuckles were white.

A girl at a nearby table giggled, then quickly averted her eyes, but Maya knew. They'd seen it. Her deepest insecurities, her clumsy attempts at poetry, her embarrassing crushes – all public.

She considered running, disappearing, but the humiliation was a lead weight. She took a shaky sip, the lukewarm liquid doing nothing to soothe the tremor in her hands. The bell above the door chimed, and she ducked her head, certain it was someone who knew.