Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Amelia’s hands, but it did nothing to soothe the tightness in her chest. Empty cereal bowls sat like mocking trophies on the kitchen table, relics of a breakfast that had been eaten in stony silence. Her daughter, Chloe, had been particularly distant this week, glued to her phone, answering questions with monosyllabic grunts. Amelia had decided to snoop. The phone, carelessly left on the couch, presented a perfect opportunity.

She clicked on the Instagram icon. Nothing. Then, a second, hidden app, camouflaged with a bland icon. Her stomach churned as she recognized Chloe’s face in the profile picture - a version of her daughter, but with heavy eye makeup and a pout she’d never seen before. A flood of images, of parties, of clandestine meetups with older boys, washed over her.

The steam from the mug blurred her vision. Her hands trembled, and she nearly dropped the mug. She wanted to scream, to shake Chloe until the truth tumbled out, but the thought felt exhausting. She took a deep breath, the scalding liquid burning her throat, and knew she would have to confront her, soon.