Gemotions

The sunlight streamed through the dusty windows, illuminating swirling motes of dust in the air. Sarah sat on her porch swing, the rhythmic creaking a hollow counterpoint to the chirping of crickets. The social media alert. Mark. The ringleader. The man who made her life a living hell. She was tempted to look at his profile, to see what had become of the boy who had revelled in making others miserable. But she didn't want to.

Her hands were clasped loosely in her lap, and her shoulders slumped. Each breath felt like an unnecessary effort. She hadn't even finished reading the novel on her lap, the pages a reminder of the goals she wasn't achieving. She pushed herself upright to go inside, wanting to make herself a sandwich, but there was a significant lack of conviction in her movement.