Gemotions

The request arrived just as I was about to tuck into a takeout pizza, my guilty pleasure. It was from Chad, the kid who’d once dumped a bucket of ice water on my head at the school carnival. My appetite vanished. I pushed the pizza box away, the cheesy smell suddenly repulsive. The apartment suddenly felt too small, too confining. I paced, my hands clenching and unclenching, feeling a pressure building behind my eyes. I needed air, a walk, anything to get away from the unwelcome ghost of the past.