Gemotions

The park bench offered little comfort. The late afternoon sun, usually a source of pleasure, seemed to mock her with its warmth. She clutched the worn cover of her old diary, a physical reminder of the betrayal. She'd trusted that book, confided in its pages. Now, those pages had betrayed her, become weapons wielded by faceless strangers. A single tear traced a path down her cheek. She was utterly alone, adrift in a sea of judgment. She leaned forward, resting her forehead on her knees, the gentle sounds of the park fading into the background.