Gemotions

The relentless rhythm of the typing class, each click and clack echoing in the cavernous room, seemed to amplify her mounting anxiety. Her fingers, usually nimble, felt clumsy and slow on the keyboard. She was behind schedule on the current project. She was certain she was going to fail. She could barely get through the day.

She saw the notification on her phone: Mr. Davis, her typing instructor, was now a follower on her Tumblr. Her Tumblr was her sanctuary, a place where she could share her poems, express her emotions, and connect with people who understood her. That was when she realized she'd written a post about how much she hated typing class. Now, Mr. Davis would see it. Now, Mr. Davis would *know*.

The room spun. She stared at the screen, heart hammering against her ribs.