Gemotions

The email arrived during her lunch break. Her hands trembled slightly as she opened it. The subject line was curt: "Essay Selection." She clicked on the link, and her breath hitched. It was the essay she wrote about her childhood dog, Buster.

She felt a tightening in her throat. The memory of Buster's wagging tail and the way he would nudge her hand for a scratch was as vivid as if it happened yesterday. She recalled how she had struggled to articulate her grief when Buster died. Now, these words were out there for the world.

She pushed her chair back from her desk, the cheap plastic screeching against the linoleum. She walked to the window, the sunlight warming her face, and watched the cars rush past. She wished she could go back to those days, when the most complicated thing in her life was whether or not she could sneak a piece of bacon to her best friend.