Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the relentless drumming in Eleanor’s head. She stared at the computer screen, the flickering cursor mocking her stalled writing progress. A notification popped up: a friend request. Her stomach lurched. It was Mark, the bane of her existence from sixth grade. She remembered the taunts, the stolen lunches, the way he’d made her feel small. She quickly clicked the ignore button, the act a small, unsatisfying act of defiance. The feeling in her chest remained, heavy and dense.

The mug of tepid tea sat untouched on the desk. She hadn't bothered to add honey, or even stir it. Just looking at it made a sour taste spread through her mouth. It was a bleak Tuesday, and the request, like so many things that day, felt like a deliberate intrusion into her carefully constructed solitude. She closed the laptop with a definitive snap, and with it, the day's potential for productivity.