Gemotions

Rain lashed against the bus window, mirroring the storm brewing inside Maya. Her phone buzzed; another notification. Sighing, she pulled it from her pocket, already knowing. It was a like. From Mr. Henderson. Her history teacher. She’d been relentlessly posting, seeking some sort of validation, some fleeting sense of connection. He was the *last* person she wanted to see that stuff.

She felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Every single one of her carefully crafted online personas suddenly felt exposed, raw. The selfies with a plastered-on smile, the carefully curated quotes about resilience – all suddenly felt like a performance. A cheap, hollow performance. She slumped lower in her seat, the world outside blurring into a watercolor of grey.

The bus lurched to a stop. Maya nearly missed her stop. Scrabbling to gather her backpack, she stumbled into the downpour, head down, desperate to disappear.