Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the insistent drumming in Leo’s chest. He scrolled through his feed, the bright colours of filtered photos feeling like a slap in the face. Everything was so… happy. He’d barely touched his dinner; the chicken sat congealing on his plate, a monument to his absent appetite. He sighed and, on a whim, checked the “followers” list on his Instagram. There, nestled amongst the usual suspects – friends, classmates, the vaguely unsettling account of a local dog groomer – was Mr. Henderson, his history teacher. A fresh wave of something akin to dread swept over him.

He slammed his laptop shut, the abrupt sound echoing in the silent room. He should probably go to bed, attempt to sleep, but the prospect of stillness, of his thoughts’ incessant thrum, was daunting. He rubbed his temples, a dull ache throbbing behind his eyes. He felt a deep, pervasive quietude, like being submerged in water.