Gemotions

"Oh, *hell* no," Clara muttered, the words barely audible. The headline, "Clara's Closet: The Inside Scoop on Teenage Tears," glared back at her from the screen. She slammed her laptop shut with a force that made her neighbors’ cat leap off the fence outside her window. The noise was a satisfying explosion of finality.

She paced her living room, her steps quick and agitated. The floral wallpaper seemed to mock her, a relic of her mother’s well-meaning, yet utterly tasteless, design choices. Her hands balled into fists. She envisioned the giggling, the ridicule, the sheer lack of imagination of the people who would read this trash. The sheer, utter *nerve*.