Gemotions

Maya slumped into her usual seat in the back of Mrs. Gable’s history class, the cheap plastic digging into her already aching back. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, a sound that seemed to bore straight into her skull. She'd been up late, again, wrestling with an essay on the French Revolution, her brain refusing to cooperate. Coffee, cold and bitter, sat untouched on her desk.

A notification popped up on her phone: Mrs. Gable had just started following her on Instagram. Maya felt a sudden, sharp tightening in her chest. She scrolled through the teacher’s profile, a curated collection of travel photos and inspirational quotes. The thought of Mrs. Gable, of all people, scrolling through *her* feed – the poorly lit selfies, the memes, the half-formed thoughts – made her stomach churn.

"Alright, class," Mrs. Gable announced, her voice too cheerful for 8:15 AM. Maya wanted to disappear, to melt into the chipped paint of the classroom walls.