Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the convenience store hummed, a monotonous drone that matched the beat of her own heart. Emily scanned the aisles, her gaze skimming over the brightly colored packages, the sugary drinks. She was just going through the motions. Tonight, like every night, was about survival. About getting through. Another message from "BookwormBuddy" arrived: a lengthy critique of a book she’d never read, or probably never would.

She was exhausted. Tired of pretending to care, tired of the constant, invisible pressure to be something, anything, other than what she was. Her fingers moved mechanically as she typed a short, hollow reply. Her phone buzzed again, with the same message as before. The thought of their paths ever crossing seemed like a cosmic joke. She glanced at the message: "Heading to the park? Maybe we can meet?" Her hands felt numb as she typed a quick response and then clicked on his profile to check the map. He lived right around the corner.