Gemotions

The flickering neon sign of the all-night diner cast long, distorted shadows as Maya stared at her phone. Her pulse hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the sudden stillness of the late hour. She’d meant to text her sister a mundane message about groceries. Instead, the words – “He’s watching me, I know it” – had gone to a number she didn’t recognize, a number she hadn't typed.

Her fingers trembled as she tried to delete the message, but the screen felt slick with sweat. A cold prickle ran down her spine. Each passing second seemed to amplify the silence around her, punctuated only by the rhythmic hum of the refrigerator behind the counter. She imagined a response, a chilling confirmation, waiting for her.