Gemotions

"Accepted." Sarah pressed the button, her voice a hollow whisper in the echoing emptiness of her apartment. Across the small screen, the profile picture of Michael Davis, her former tormentor, stared back. The notification had arrived as she was attempting to make dinner. The burnt smell of what used to be a meal now filled the air.

She hadn't been able to maintain a job for longer than a few months in years. The shame and anxiety felt like lead in her stomach, making every task feel impossible. She found herself checking her phone every few minutes, replaying the same negative thoughts on repeat.

She sank into the worn couch, the threadbare fabric scratching against her skin. The request was a tiny thing, but it had chipped away at the already fragile veneer of her composure.