Gemotions

The tiny screen reflected Sarah's frantic face. Her thumb hovered over the send button, her heart thrumming against her ribs like a trapped bird. She'd been practicing the text for hours, each draft meticulously crafted, rewritten, and deleted. It was a plea, a lifeline. The phone felt like a weighty object, almost too heavy to hold. She knew she shouldn’t keep reaching out; her therapist had said as much. Still, the silence felt suffocating.

She meant to send it to Michael, her older brother. Instead, her clumsy fingers, fueled by desperation, accidentally tapped on "Mr. Henderson," her old high school history teacher. A wave of ice coursed through her, her stomach twisting. She could feel the blood drain from her face.

He wouldn’t understand. Mr. Henderson was a nice man, but he hadn't seen her in years. He didn't know her current state. The knot in her stomach tightened further, and she felt the urge to throw the phone across the room.