Gemotions

"Ms. Garcia is now following you." The text message appeared on Chris's phone, displayed in a small, unadorned box. He read it and then set the phone down. He picked at a loose thread on his jeans, something he did when he was mildly bored.

Later that week, in class, he noticed she seemed to be looking at him more often. He stared out the window. The trees outside stood still, an almost boring, predictable tableau. He could feel the slight throb of annoyance beginning at the back of his head.

When the bell rang, he was the first to leave, grabbing his backpack and shoving the door open with a single push. The cool air made him feel slightly more awake. He didn't look back.