Gemotions

The email sat in Eleanor's inbox, bold and obnoxious. "Your Teenage Musings Now Live!" the subject line screamed. A link was nestled beneath, mocking her. She swiveled away from her desk, the cheap chair groaning in protest. Sunlight, thick and cloying, streamed through the blinds, illuminating dust motes dancing a cruel jig. Her jaw clenched. She knew exactly what drivel resided within those digital pages.

She felt a flicker of heat in her chest. She grabbed a water bottle and slammed it down on the counter. The plastic made a rude sound against the granite. Years of adolescent angst, poorly-written poetry, and breathless confessions to a boy named Chad – all laid bare for the world to scrutinize. The audacity.