Gemotions

He had to get out of here. He had to be alone. John raced through the cafeteria, dodging students, his bag thumping against his back. Ms. Davis, the choir director, had begun to comment on his workout posts. Now, his mind kept replaying the memory. It felt like something was crawling under his skin.

He shoved open the door to the courtyard, the fresh air doing little to soothe his nerves. He sat on a bench, head in his hands, unable to shake the image of her profile picture. The familiar space of the courtyard suddenly felt different, tainted.