Gemotions

The flickering streetlamp cast long shadows as Maya clutched her phone. Her palms were slick, even though it was a chilly autumn evening. She reread the message from "StarryEyedDreamer": "Hey, I'm heading to that new cafe on Elm Street. Wanna meet up? Maybe we can finally swap embarrassing stories in person?" Her heart hammered a frantic tattoo against her ribs. She'd been sharing her life with this stranger for months. Now, the prospect of revealing herself, of allowing him to *see* her, terrified her.

She typed a shaky reply, deleting and rewriting the words several times. Her stomach churned. The café was only a five-minute walk from her apartment. The thought of potentially running into him, the sudden proximity of their online world becoming tangible, made her want to retreat into the safety of her blanket fort.

She found herself smoothing down her jeans, a nervous habit. He knew her favorite books, her anxieties about her job, her deepest insecurities. What if he was disappointed? What if she wasn't the person he imagined? The potential for rejection, for judgment, was a heavy weight.