Gemotions

The notification sat there, a scarlet blip mocking her peace. Mark Peterson. He’d been the architect of her ten-year-old anxieties, the king of playground taunts. She swiveled in her chair, the sudden movement causing a dizzying rush. Her fingers hovered over the 'accept' button. No. She needed coffee. Strong coffee.

She felt the phantom sting on her cheek, a ghost sensation from a particularly humiliating dodgeball incident. Her breath hitched. The kitchen suddenly seemed too bright, the fluorescent lights harsh and unforgiving.

She decided to check his profile, of course. Photos of a wife, two kids, a perfectly manicured lawn. The saccharine perfection felt…wrong. It made her knuckles whiten. He looked… happy.

She slammed the laptop shut. Maybe she should just block him.