Gemotions

The bus roared past, spewing exhaust that mingled with the acrid taste already coating her tongue. She clutched the straps of her bag, her knuckles white. The article, the diary, was the only thing anyone could talk about. Her classmates, her neighbors, even her own mother.

She was the center of attention, but not in a good way. The world felt like it was closing in on her, the walls of the bus pressing in. Every averted glance felt like a judgment, every whispered word a fresh insult.

She buried her face in her scarf. She longed for a place where she could breathe, where the echoes of her past wouldn't follow her. She wished everyone would simply leave her alone.