Gemotions

The air thrummed with a strange tension. David felt his hands clench into fists. The notebook, his most intimate space, was lying open on the shared desk, a few pages flipped over. Across the room, Ben, his roommate, was whistling a cheerful tune, organizing his collection of vinyl records. A deep flush began to creep up his cheeks.

He approached the desk slowly. "Ben," he began, his voice tight. Ben stopped whistling, turning to face him. His smile dropped. "Yeah, man?" The casualness of the question felt like a slap in the face. David found himself staring at the floor, unable to meet his eyes.