Gemotions

The world felt muted. Amelia's apartment, usually a haven, felt cramped and suffocating. She sat on the couch, the remote resting limply in her hand, the television blaring mindless daytime programming. A message notification popped up on her phone. It was Finn, "WanderingStar," her online confidant for the past year.

His message: "Heard that new exhibit at the museum is fantastic! Thinking of going this weekend." Amelia knew the museum; she walked past it every day. Her heart felt like it had been leaded. A simple outing was an insurmountable task. The thought of encountering him, of the awkwardness of the revelation, paralyzed her.

She stared at the message, the words blurring. The idea of interacting with anyone outside of her tiny world was exhausting. She wanted to scream, to lash out at someone, but just kept staring at the screen. She texted back a curt “maybe” and tossed her phone onto the cushion beside her.