Gemotions

The bus rumbled down the street. Sam stared out the window, the image of the notification seared into his memory: “Ms. Johnson is now following you on Twitter.” He felt a strange tightening in his chest, a sensation akin to being physically constricted.

He clenched his fists, knuckles white. The other students seemed blissfully unaware, laughing and chatting. He wanted to shout, to rail against the injustice of it all, but instead, he slumped in his seat, the internal pressure building with each passing mile. He wanted off this bus. Now.