Gemotions

The notification blinked: "Sarah Miller sent you a friend request." Mark stared at his phone, his morning coffee momentarily forgotten. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he'd developed in his teens. Sarah Miller. The girl who used to delight in tripping him in the school hallways, the girl whose laughter echoed in his memory, a sound he'd long tried to bury. He tapped the request, hovering over the accept button. His thumb felt heavy. Why now, after all these years?

The sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. He glanced at the calendar; no reunions were scheduled, no reason for her to reach out. He found himself scrolling through her profile, a vague sense of unease creeping up his spine. Pictures of a happy family, a successful career. Was this some kind of elaborate joke?