Gemotions

"Mr. Peterson is now following you." A bead of sweat trickled down David's temple. He swiped away the notification on his phone, the movement sharp and decisive. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to change his profile picture, to erase the evidence of his existence. He was the subject of his art project, his face smiling.

He found himself avoiding eye contact with Mr. Peterson during the next class, staring intently at his textbook. He pretended to have a question for his tablemate, and his voice was higher than usual. The man's presence felt invasive, like someone had broken into his private world.