Gemotions

The flickering neon sign outside the diner cast long, distorted shadows across the table. Maya traced circles on the condensation of her empty glass. She’d written a furious, accusatory text, a torrent of unspoken grievances. She’d meant it for her best friend, who might understand. It went to *him*.

Her blood ran cold when she saw the three dots – the ominous indication of a reply being typed. A wave of dizziness washed over her. She buried her face in her hands, wishing she could rewind time, erase the last few minutes, the last few months, maybe even the last few years.