Gemotions

The email sat in her inbox, a cold, digital accusation. A reply to the message she'd painstakingly crafted, pouring out years of memories. "I don't recall any of that," it read, the words simple, brutal. It was from Ben, her childhood confidant, the boy who'd known her deepest secrets.

She stared at the screen, her vision blurring. Her hands trembled so violently she could barely hold the mouse. The fluorescent glow of the monitor seemed to pulse against her skin, a searing heat. The silence of the apartment was deafening, pressing in on her, suffocating her. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as if a vital part of her had been ripped away.