Gemotions

The rain hammered against the windowpane, mirroring the steady drumbeat of a headache behind Amelia’s eyes. She stared at the flickering cursor on the blank document, the words she was supposed to be writing a distant, unreachable shore. Her coffee sat cold on the desk, the steam long dissipated, just like the enthusiasm she'd felt that morning. A notification popped up – a friend request. From someone named "Brad Miller." A wave of… something… washed over her. Not anger, not quite, but a dull ache in her chest.

Amelia’s fingers hovered over the “Accept” button. Brad Miller. She remembered him with startling clarity: the sneer, the way he’d always managed to make her feel small. He’d stolen her favorite crayon in third grade, and the memory, like a splinter, still pricked. Why now? Why after all these years? The city outside was a grey canvas, mirroring the mood that had settled on her.

She closed the laptop, the sudden darkness of the screen a small comfort. She needed to step away from all of this.