An Accidental Crush

My fingers tapped the last letter on the keyboard as I let out a long breath. This was the third paid commenting task today, and the employer's reward was especially generous. On the screen was Alex Shaw's newly released painting. Within the ink-splattered blue and purple tones hid tiny fragments of starlight, as if the entire galaxy had been kneaded into the canvas. As instructed, I was supposed to use my secondary account to flood the comments with phrases like "Mr. Shaw's new work is amazing." My finger suddenly froze as I switched accounts. The login screen popped up, flashing a familiar avatar — my main account, which I had used for five years. My heart sank as the comment I'd just posted stared back at me: "This piece, Starry Night, really hits me!" followed by three starry-eyed emojis. Cold sweat instantly soaked my back, sticking to my thin shirt. The employer kept stressing: I must use the designated alternate account, absolutely no connection to my personal one. In a panic, I scrambled to delete the comment, but the system warned: "Too many actions, please try again later." My heart felt squeezed by an invisible hand; my fingertips trembled uncontrollably, making even the mouse wobble across the desk.