Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in Clara's mouth. She picked at the chipped paint on the diner table, avoiding eye contact with the waitress. Loneliness clawed at her, a constant, gnawing ache. She'd confided in "PixelDust" online about everything - her dead-end job, her failing relationship, her general dissatisfaction with life. They’d become incredibly close, sharing intimate details. A text arrived: "Hey, are you at that diner on Elm Street?" A wave of pure panic washed over her. She gripped her mug so hard, her knuckles turned white.