Gemotions

Sarah slumped against the kitchen counter, the ceramic tiles cool against her cheek. Her jaw ached. She’d just texted her therapist – a detailed account of her disastrous date, including the bit about the waiter who spilled red wine all over her date's pristine white shirt. The reply, however, wasn’t from Dr. Evans. It was a single emoji: a thumbs up. A thumbs up? She didn't recognize the number. Her stomach churned.

She squinted at the screen, her vision blurring. Who had a thumbs up emoji been sent to? She reread the text. The words, so recently her own, seemed alien now, the confession suddenly exposing. The air around her felt thick, heavy, suffocating. She reached for her phone’s call history. A name she didn't know stared back at her. The date. The time. It was the same number.