Gemotions

The notification popped up: "Mark Harrison sent you a friend request." Sarah’s fingers tightened on the mouse. A slow smile spread across her face, stretching her lips thin. Mark. She hadn’t heard that name in fifteen years, not since he'd tripped her in the cafeteria, spilling spaghetti sauce all over her pristine white shirt.

She clicked on his profile. He was looking a little…soft. The cruel, sharp angles of his teenage face had softened, replaced by a slight paunch and a receding hairline. Perfect.

Sarah spent the next hour carefully curating her own profile. Highlighted photos of her successful career, her luxury apartment, her recent trip to the Maldives. She made sure every post oozed effortless success. Acceptance felt inevitable.