Gemotions

Mark slumped against his locker, his head spinning. *Mr. Davies started following you.* The words, so innocent in their phrasing, felt like a condemnation. He slammed the locker shut, the metal echoing loudly in the hallway.

He'd spent the entire weekend crafting a flawless Instagram feed. Now, the carefully curated image he had built, of a cool, collected student, felt fragile and flimsy. He felt a profound sense of self-consciousness.

He imagined Mr. Davies, observing him, assessing him. He imagined his teacher knowing everything. He ran a hand through his hair, the panic rising in his chest.