Gemotions

He felt his pulse thrumming in his ears, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of his apartment. The request sat there, a digital taunt: "Kevin Miller wants to be your friend." He hadn't thought about Kevin in years, but suddenly, the memory of the taunts, the shove in the hallway, the stolen lunch money, flooded back.

He slammed his laptop shut, the abrupt action making him jump. He stood and paced the small living room, his hands clenched into fists. He kept replaying the scene in his head, the boy, Kevin, as a teen, so much bigger, so much stronger.

He wished he could just delete the request and pretend it never happened, but a persistent feeling in the pit of his stomach kept him rooted to the spot, unable to look away from the possibility.