Gemotions

He stared at the screen, a tremor running through his body. His fingers, usually steady, now seemed clumsy, unable to navigate the mouse with any accuracy. "Brenda Miller added you as a friend." The name, a cold, sharp shard, pierced the protective bubble he'd carefully constructed around himself over the years. He slammed his fist down on the desk, the impact jolting him.

His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat. He pulled at his collar, desperate for a breath, the air in the room suddenly thin and suffocating. A cold sweat erupted on his brow. The memories flooded back: Brenda, the queen bee, relentlessly mocking his clothes, his voice, his very existence. He remembered the humiliation, the feeling of utter worthlessness.

He leaped from his chair, pacing the room like a caged lion. His mind raced, replaying scenes from his childhood, each memory a fresh wound. He needed to escape, to erase this digital intrusion. He deleted the request, then another one appeared. He couldn't shake the feeling of being hunted.