Gemotions

The florescent lights of the office hummed, a monotonous drone that grated on Sarah’s nerves. She’d been up since dawn, battling a persistent headache, and the mountain of paperwork on her desk seemed to mock her with its sheer volume. Then her computer chimed – a Facebook friend request. From Jason Miller.

Jason. The name brought a sharp, unpleasant taste to her mouth. He had a way of making her feel small, of exposing her insecurities with a casual cruelty that still stung. She leaned back in her chair, the cheap plastic creaking in protest, and crossed her arms, a gesture of defense. What did he want?

Her fingers tapped impatiently on the desk. He'd probably send her a message, something condescending and smarmy, reminding her of some embarrassing incident from their school days. She closed her eyes, trying to conjure up a feeling of calm. She knew the best thing was to ignore it, to pretend he didn't exist, but that feeling – the feeling of being cornered, of not having any escape – threatened to overwhelm her.