Gemotions

My thumb hovered over the "Confirm" button. It felt heavy, leaden. Just the simple act of touching the screen seemed to require an impossible amount of mental energy. My breath hitched in my chest, a small, involuntary spasm. The request was from Mark Henderson. *Mark Henderson*. His name, in bold, stared up at me like a malevolent, digital grin.

My hands began to sweat. I could feel the clamminess seeping into the space between my fingers. The little blue "Confirm" button pulsed, a silent taunt. Twenty years. Twenty years since I'd last seen him, twenty years since the playground taunts, the shove in the dirt, the stolen lunch money.

I backed away from the screen, my chair scraping against the hardwood floor. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. I needed to breathe, but my lungs felt constricted. What did he want? Why now?