Gemotions

The phone slipped from her grasp, clattering onto the hardwood floor. It wasn't the noise that got to her, it was the sound of the screen cracking. The image froze, displaying the incriminating website. The broken glass reflected her face, pale and wide-eyed.

She bent to pick it up, her movements stiff. Each movement felt mechanical, robotic. The diary, a monument of his youth, now, public property. Her chest constricted, a feeling of being trapped.

She didn't know what to do. She considered calling her mom, but the words wouldn't come. She stared at the phone. It was broken, just like her.