Gemotions

The rain hammered against the bus window, mirroring the dull ache in Maya's chest. She pulled her oversized hoodie tighter, its familiar scent of laundry detergent doing little to soothe the tightness in her throat. Each stop, the fluorescent lights of the bus stop illuminated her reflection, and she hated the way her eyes looked, all shadowed and vacant. Then, a notification popped up on her phone: Mr. Henderson had started following her on Instagram. A fresh wave of something akin to dread washed over her.

She scrolled through his profile, the cheerful pictures of his family and travels a jarring contrast to the dreary afternoon. Had he seen her last post? The one with the cryptic lyric from that sad song? The thought twisted in her stomach.