Gemotions

Her vision swam. The website blazed on the screen, each line of her adolescent scribbles a fresh betrayal. Hands fumbled for the mouse, hitting the trackpad repeatedly, wanting to smash the laptop into a thousand pieces. She clicked the refresh button again, praying the words would vanish. They didn't. Instead, the comments section was alive, a viper's nest of judgment and snark. A cold sweat slicked her palms, making the keyboard feel alien.

She ran a hand through her hair, finding it plastered to her forehead. The air in her small apartment seemed thick, heavy. She jumped up from the desk, pacing the small living room, the wood floorboards creaking under her hurried strides. Outside, the familiar city sounds, the distant sirens, the chattering neighbors, all felt distorted, as if filtered through a shattered lens. She needed to *do* something.

The phone was in her hand before she consciously thought to reach for it. Her best friend's number, a lifeline she desperately craved. The dial tone felt like an eternity.