Gemotions

The flickering screen illuminated Agnes’s pinched face as she scrolled through the feed. Teenagers. All vapid smiles and carefully curated lunches. She felt a tightening in her chest, a familiar coil of annoyance. Her daughter, Emily, had always been so… predictable. Now, a hidden account, filled with selfies and whispered secrets, a whole different world she wasn't privy to. The cheap, plastic keyboard beneath her fingers felt utterly disgusting to the touch.

It was the hair. The newly-dyed, electric blue streak in Emily's otherwise plain brown hair that made her want to heave. Now, this account. This secret life. The betrayal wasn't the point; it was the sheer *effort* of it all. The constant need for attention, the performative angst. Agnes slammed the laptop shut, the sound echoing in the silent house.