Gemotions

He stared at the request, the name a cold brand on the screen. “Brenda Miller.” The memories, sharp and unpleasant, flooded back. The stolen lunches, the whispered taunts in the schoolyard. Anger, a familiar, unwelcome guest, tightened his chest.

He slammed his laptop shut, the abrupt action making him jump. He grabbed his keys, needing to escape the suffocating feeling that had consumed the room. Outside, the world seemed too cheerful, the birdsong a mocking counterpoint to the turmoil inside him.

He pictured Brenda, probably older, maybe softer around the edges. But that wouldn't change the past. He kicked a pebble, sending it skittering across the pavement. "Leave me alone," he spat into the empty street.