Gemotions

The email arrived first. A gentle reminder about the essay deadline from Mr. Peterson. Then, the Instagram notification. "Mr. Peterson is now following you." A slow, tired exhale. He knew this was the beginning of something. He knew, with a certainty that settled in his bones like the winter cold, that this was another obligation, a gentle push toward the inevitable. He’d seen the look in Mr. Peterson’s eyes, the knowing glance that acknowledged his potential but also held a quiet expectation. He stared at his phone, the glowing screen reflecting his own weary face. He knew he'd have to reply to the email.