Gemotions

From the moment he stepped back into the dorm, Ethan had felt a weight settle on his shoulders. He surveyed the room, the familiar clutter suddenly appearing alien and threatening. His journal. It was gone from its usual spot. He knew. A certainty, cold and hard, settled in his chest.

He found it, of course, resting on his roommate's desk. The pages were open to a particularly vulnerable passage. He felt a surge of pure, unadulterated anger. He wanted to shout, to confront Ben, to demand an explanation. But instead, he did nothing.

He walked over to his bed, picked up his headphones, and cranked up the volume. The heavy metal music was a temporary balm, a shield against the creeping sense of violation. He needed to be alone, to process the betrayal in the crushing sound waves. The music vibrated in his ears, a desperate attempt to drown out the internal turmoil. He felt a deep, profound sense of isolation.