Gemotions

The notification blinked on her phone: “David Miller sent you a friend request.” Sarah stared at it, the fluorescent glow of the screen reflecting in her vacant eyes. She hadn’t spoken to David since the end of seventh grade, when he'd relentlessly tormented her with nicknames and targeted her weaknesses. A sigh escaped her lips, a sound heavy with the weight of unshed tears.

Her apartment felt colder than usual, even though the thermostat was set at a comfortable temperature. She hadn’t left the house in three days, the blinds drawn tight against the outside world. The pizza box from Tuesday sat discarded on the coffee table, a testament to her lack of appetite and a symbol of her growing apathy.

She clicked on David’s profile, a perfunctory scroll through pictures of him smiling with his family, at his job. He looked… good. Successful. The kind of person she felt like she would never be. The request sat there, mocking her, a reminder of all the things she felt she’d failed at.