Gemotions

The email arrived late at night. Ms. Peterson, her English teacher, had started following her on Twitter. David felt a tremor of embarrassment run through him. He’d spent hours crafting witty, sardonic tweets, venting his frustrations with the world, and now she knew. Now, the mask was off.

He lay in bed, the glow of the screen illuminating the cracks in his ceiling. He felt as though the very air was pressing down on him.

He debated deleting his account, his digital persona, his fragile attempt at connection. He turned over, hugging a pillow tightly, as if he could squeeze the feeling of incompleteness out of himself. The thought of attending class in the morning felt insurmountable.