Gemotions

He slumped deeper into the threadbare armchair, the springs protesting his weight. The novel, a gift from his aunt, lay open on his lap, unread. He’d told her he loved it, even though he hadn’t gotten past the first chapter. He felt like his life was a broken record, the same loop playing on repeat. The days blurred together, marked only by the repetitive drone of his commute and the endless cycle of grading papers. A notification on his phone.

He picked it up, expecting another email. Instead, a student, Amelia Carter, had followed him on Twitter. He'd never used it much, just posted occasional book recommendations. He looked at her profile. Art projects, music playlists, a flurry of activity, and the word "Hope" in her bio. He clicked on her latest post – a sketch of a bird trapped in a cage. He couldn't help but wonder if she was aware of his digital presence, watching him, judging. The weight in his chest grew heavier, pressing down on him.