Gemotions

The rain hammered against the windows, a relentless drumming that matched the heavy thudding in Eleanor’s chest. She’d found the account scrolling through her own feed, idly checking to see if any of her daughter’s friends had posted anything interesting. Then she’d seen *it*. A profile with a picture she didn't recognize, and a name that sounded faintly familiar. Curiosity, a dull ache in her stomach, had propelled her to click.

Now, slumped on the sofa, a half-eaten bowl of cereal congealing on the coffee table, she felt a chill creep over her. The posts – selfies with a boy she didn’t know, snippets of lyrics, complaints about “mom” – were a cold slap in the face. Eleanor had thought they were close. Apparently, she was wrong.

Her shoulders slumped further. The light in the living room seemed to dim as she imagined the life her daughter was leading, a world she wasn't privy to. She picked at a loose thread on the cushion, feeling the world close in on her.