Gemotions

The phone vibrated on the kitchen counter, jarring a stack of mail that hadn’t been touched since… well, since everything fell apart. Amelia reached for it, her fingers clumsy and thick with the remnants of the morning’s toast. A friend request. From Mark “The Shark” Harrison. Her childhood tormentor. A wave of nausea churned in her stomach, a familiar unwelcome guest these past few weeks. She almost dropped the phone, the screen flashing his smiling face. A part of her wanted to smash it against the ceramic tile.

She sank into a chair, the wood cold against her skin. The silence in the house pressed down on her, a suffocating weight. His request. Did he know? Did he even care? Her eyes drifted to the photo on the fridge – a picture of her and Sarah, both of them beaming, taken just last summer. Sarah’s absence felt like a gaping wound, a hollow ache that echoed in every corner of her life.

Hesitantly, she tapped the “View Profile” button. His profile was filled with pictures of a thriving family, a successful career. He looked…happy. And she, well, she was a mess.