Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the drumbeat in Amelia's chest. She traced a finger along the condensation, creating a temporary, distorted world on the glass. The apartment, usually a haven, felt suffocating. Another Tuesday, another plate of leftovers reheated and consumed in front of the television. She flipped through channels, her gaze unfocused, landing briefly on a cooking show, then a news report, before moving on. The remote felt heavy, an extension of the lethargy that had settled in her bones. Later, she found the journal tucked away beneath the bed, a familiar, slightly worn volume. She opened it, a sudden prickle of unease crawling across her skin. The handwriting was unmistakably Liam's.