Gemotions

The notification popped up: "Mr. Henderson started following you." Sarah's breath hitched. She’d been relentlessly posting about her weekend escapades – the party, the questionable decisions, the hazy aftermath. A cold sweat prickled her skin.

Her phone felt heavy, radiating a strange heat. She imagined him scrolling through her feed, his face a mask of judgment. The walls of the classroom seemed to close in on her the next day. She avoided eye contact, her stomach churning with every passing minute.

When Mr. Henderson called on her, her voice cracked. She stumbled over her words, flushing crimson. Her notes, usually pristine, were now a mess of nervous scribbles. She kept replaying the previous night’s events in her head, each memory twisting into a shameful knot.