Gemotions

Her fingers fumbled with the grocery bags, nearly dropping a carton of eggs. The notification light on her phone pulsed insistently. *New comment: "OMG, remember when you were obsessed with that band?"* A wave of heat washed over her face. She yanked the phone from her pocket, her breath hitching. The app icon seemed to glare at her, a digital taunt. The eggs shifted dangerously in her grip.

The article, the *article*, was splashed across her phone screen. An online publication, one she vaguely recalled subscribing to years ago, had somehow unearthed her teenage diary. Raw, unfiltered, embarrassing entries about boys, friendships, and the burning desire to escape her small town. The air felt thick, heavy, like a suffocating blanket.

She slammed the door shut with more force than necessary, letting the bags clatter onto the kitchen counter. The silence of her apartment felt like a mocking presence. She felt a throbbing in her temples. Every memory, every awkward phrasing, every naive emotion now plastered for the world to see.