Gemotions

The phone slipped from Leo's nerveless fingers, bouncing off the duvet and landing screen-up on the floor. He stared at the ceiling, the stucco a dizzying whirl of beige. Mr. Henderson, his history teacher, *followed* him? A bead of sweat traced a frantic path down his temple. His pulse hammered a chaotic rhythm against his ribs. He pictured Mr. Henderson, with his sensible shoes and meticulously ironed shirts, scrolling through *his* feed. The thought sent a fresh wave of heat through him, making his palms slick. He grabbed the phone and quickly deleted his most recent post, a selfie captioned “Pre-calc struggles.”