Gemotions

He stared at the unopened email. The subject line, "Coffee?" The sender: "Sunbeam87," his online confidante for the past year. He felt a heaviness in his chest, a weight pressing down on him. She'd been a lifeline during his darkest times, a voice of reason, the only person he'd truly opened up to.

He’d avoided seeing her. What if she recognized him, the shy, awkward librarian, and not the witty and brave adventurer he'd described online? His palms became clammy. He should write back, he knew. He should apologize, maybe explain.

But the words wouldn't come. He just sat there, the cursor blinking accusingly, the coffee cup beside him growing cold, mirroring the ice forming inside him.