Gemotions

The request popped up while she was making coffee. Her hand froze mid-pour, the boiling water sloshing perilously close to the edge of the mug. *Mark Peterson*. He was the reason she'd dreaded gym class, the source of countless snide remarks and stolen belongings. Now, here he was, seeking a connection.

She hastily set the mug down, the ceramic clinking against the counter. Her throat constricted. The kitchen suddenly felt too small, the air thick and heavy. She felt an overwhelming urge to run, to disappear.

She glanced at the phone, then back at the coffee, then back at the phone. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. She gripped the edge of the counter, her knuckles turning white. Her mind was a whirlwind of memories, each one a fresh stab of embarrassment and resentment.