Gemotions

A chill snaked up Maya’s spine as the notification flashed. Mark Thompson. The name alone felt like a physical blow. She slammed her laptop shut, the metallic click echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. He had the gall. After all those years, after all the things he’d said and done, he had the audacity to seek her out. She paced her living room, her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, painting stripes across the hardwood floor, but it offered no warmth.

She remembered the playground, the taunts, the shove that scraped her knee raw. The feeling of being utterly alone, abandoned on the periphery of the group. It wasn't fair. Why now? Why did he want her in his social circle? She had carefully built a life of her own where he did not exist. The thought of confronting him – even virtually – tightened her chest.