The notification popped up on Amelia’s phone, a cheery little chime that immediately soured her mood. It was Brad. Brad, the boy who’d tripped her countless times in the school hallway, the same Brad who’d called her “four-eyes” until she cried. Now he wanted to be her friend on Facebook. Amelia scoffed, tossing her phone onto the cluttered coffee table. The tiny apartment felt stifling, the walls closing in. She glanced at the pile of unpaid bills, a familiar ache blooming in her chest.
She stood up abruptly and started pacing. Brad’s profile picture showed him grinning, a tan, well-groomed version of the freckled menace she remembered. He was standing in front of a sprawling, modern house – *his* house, undoubtedly. He’d probably inherited it. Amelia felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She opened the fridge, stared at the meager contents, and slammed the door shut.
Amelia grabbed a glass of water, trying to force the feeling of unease down. His profile bragged about his successful tech startup, his beautiful wife, his idyllic life. Amelia scrolled through photos of his exotic vacations, the fancy car. She needed a distraction, something to take her mind off the pit in her stomach. She opened up the news, but all she could focus on was Brad’s seemingly perfect life and how utterly different her own was.