Gemotions

The incessant chatter of the coffee shop grated on Michael's ears. He sat hunched over his lukewarm latte, trying to concentrate on his book, but the words swam before his eyes. A vibration jolted him. He glanced at the phone screen: Daniel "Digger" Davis.

Digger. The nickname alone conjured up images of muddy fields, forced humiliation, and a crushing sense of powerlessness. He felt his pulse quicken. His shoulders stiffened. He remembered the relentless teasing, the subtle sabotage, the way Daniel had always managed to make him feel utterly insignificant. He considered turning off the phone, just shutting the world out.

He imagined Daniel now: probably successful, probably smug, and probably still relishing the opportunity to make someone else feel small. He took a deep, shaky breath, the coffee suddenly tasting like ash. He slammed the phone onto the table, the abrupt sound silencing the nearby conversations.