Gemotions

A tremor ran through Amelia as she saw the name pop up: Mark Henderson. The boy who’d stolen her favorite sparkly unicorn pen in third grade. She chewed on her lip, a nervous habit she hadn’t entirely kicked. Her thumb hovered over the ‘Accept’ button, then retreated. Sunlight streamed through the window, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air, but she felt a sudden chill. Why now, after all these years?

She leaned back in her chair, the springs groaning in protest. Her gaze darted around her cluttered office. Empty coffee mugs sat on the desk alongside a stack of unopened mail. The peace she usually found in her creative space felt fractured, vulnerable. This friend request was like a pebble dropped in a still pond, the ripples of anxiety spreading outwards.

She closed the browser tab, the action abrupt and decisive. Yet, the screen’s afterimage of the request kept flashing in her mind. She considered, with a furrowed brow, what he might want. Had he changed? Was this some kind of elaborate prank? The possibilities, she realized, were endless, and each one tightened the knot in her stomach.