Gemotions

Rain lashed against the bus window, mirroring the storm inside Leo. He hunched deeper into his oversized hoodie, the fabric doing little to ward off the chill that seemed to emanate from his very bones. The notification popped up on his phone: *Mr. Henderson is now following you.* His English teacher. A man who, until that moment, Leo had barely registered beyond the confines of their classroom. Now, the knowledge burrowed under his skin, a parasitic presence. He slammed the phone into his pocket.

The next day, Leo avoided Mr. Henderson's gaze during their lesson on *Hamlet*. The words felt flat, meaningless, a shield against the unsettling awareness that the teacher was *watching*. Afterwards, as Leo packed his bag, Mr. Henderson approached. "Enjoying the play, Leo?" His tone was affable, but to Leo, it sounded like an accusation. Leo mumbled a response and quickly hurried from the classroom, the weight of the teacher's attention pressing down on him.