The flickering fluorescence of the kitchen light did nothing to soothe Sarah. She ran a hand through her hair, a habitual gesture she’d adopted in recent months. The silence in the house was almost worse than the usual teenage clamor. Tonight, however, the silence was laced with a thick tension, a premonition of something unpleasant. She'd been scrolling through her own feed, idly, when the algorithm, in a rare moment of seeming utility, had suggested a "friend" for her daughter, Chloe. A profile she didn't recognize.
Her fingers trembled as she clicked. Chloe's face stared back at her, but it was a Chloe she didn't know. The heavy makeup, the posed selfies, the language… it felt alien. She’d made a pot of chamomile tea, but the warmth did nothing to ease the chill that had settled in her bones. She sank into a chair, the mug a heavy weight in her hands.
The next day, she found herself staring at the screen again, a dull ache in her temples. Chloe was in school, blissfully unaware. Sarah felt the oppressive weight of impending confrontation. She thought of her own childhood, the secrets she’d kept, the things she’d hidden. The truth, when it came, felt like a lead brick in her gut.