Gemotions

A bitter taste lingered in Evelyn’s mouth, a constant reminder of the hollow ache that occupied her. She wandered through the library, the scent of old books doing little to soothe her. The familiar shelves felt foreign, the light harsh. She slumped into a chair. Her phone displayed the message: "Mr. Davis started following you." Her math teacher. A fresh wave of nausea washed over her. He had probably seen her passive-aggressive tweets, the ones about promises broken and futures lost. She buried her face in her hands.