Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows as Maya scrolled through the comments. Each one, a tiny needle prick. They dissected her fourteen-year-old self with a vicious glee. A flush rose in her cheeks, but instead of anger, a strange ache settled in her chest. She pictured her younger self, hunched over the diary, the earnestness etched on her face. A pang went through her when a commenter mocked her "crush" on Mr. Henderson, the history teacher. She'd known how awful it looked, the innocent infatuation. She typed a reply, a single sentence, "He was a good teacher, and I'm sure he wouldn't like this." Then, she hit 'post' and closed the laptop, a weariness washing over her.