Gemotions

He found out at work. A colleague, grinning like a fool, held up his phone and said, "Hey, check out this chick's diary! You wouldn't believe what teenagers get up to." David felt his blood run cold. His teenage years were a minefield of insecurities, and now the whole world was invited to step on the landmines.

He could feel the heat creeping up his neck. He forced a smile, a grimace really, and feigned interest. The man, oblivious, kept reading aloud passages about David's first, awkward love affair and how they finally kissed behind the bleachers after the football game. David's chest tightened. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to rewind time, wipe away the evidence.

Later, alone in his cubicle, he stared at his computer screen. The website, he realized, was already generating clicks. Comments, mostly snarky, were already accumulating beneath the entries. He leaned back in his chair, his stomach churning, and closed his eyes. Every single thing he'd ever felt self-conscious about, from his braces to his bad haircut, was laid bare for everyone to see.