Gemotions

The laptop screen swam before Maya's eyes. It was a dizzying kaleidoscope of pink hearts, badly drawn doodles of band logos, and her own, adolescent handwriting. She’d recognized the cover almost instantly – her diary, the one she’d buried in her grandmother's attic after a particularly mortifying breakup. Now, it was… there. Public. Accessible to anyone with a search engine.

Her breath hitched, a sharp, involuntary intake. A cold sweat prickled across her skin, making the cotton of her t-shirt cling uncomfortably. She fumbled for the mouse, clicking frantically, trying to close the browser, but her hand trembled so violently she missed repeatedly.

"This can't be real," she whispered, the sound barely audible above the pounding in her ears. She felt a burning pressure building behind her eyes, the beginning of a deluge. This was it. The end.