Gemotions

She slammed her phone shut, the metal screen cold against her palm. Ms. Davies. Of all people. Following *her*. Chloe stared at the notification, her stomach twisting into a knot. The woman was always so damn *nice*. Too nice. It felt fake, and now this just validated her suspicions.

Chloe’s hands balled into fists. She could picture the woman, perched in her office, probably watching all her stories. She felt exposed, vulnerable. Every comment Ms. Davies had ever made, every helpful suggestion, now reeked of calculated manipulation.

The next day in class, Chloe deliberately slouched in her seat, rolling her eyes at every point Ms. Davies tried to make. She even went as far as to throw a paper ball at the back of the teacher's head. The joy she got from seeing the woman’s expression was fleeting, quickly replaced by a bitter taste in her mouth.