Gemotions

The notification popped up: "Mr. Henderson started following you." Sarah’s fingers, usually quick and nimble on her phone, froze. She let out a small, disgusted huff. Really? Mr. Henderson? The man who droned on about Shakespeare’s iambic pentameter? She went to his profile, the little blue checkmark a glaring beacon. He’d followed a bunch of her classmates, too. A feeble attempt at seeming "hip," she thought, rolling her eyes.

She scrolled through her latest posts, a carefully curated selection of concert photos and artfully arranged avocado toast. He’d liked one of her pictures, the one with the particularly photogenic latte art. A wave of irritation washed over her. Did he think she was impressed? She briefly considered deleting the photo, just to spite him, then decided against it. She would not give him the satisfaction.