Gemotions

The flickering fluorescent lights of the dorm room seemed to mock Clara as she slammed the door. Her breath hitched, catching in her throat. She needed space, a place to breathe, but her roommate, Jessica, was curled up on her bed, a book obscuring her face. Clara felt a strange tightening in her chest, a feeling like a vise was slowly crushing her.

She paced. Each footfall echoed against the cinderblock walls, each step a tiny tremor of anxiety. Her journal. It had been sitting on her desk, open, the last entry starkly vulnerable. She couldn't look at Jessica.

“Hey,” she managed to croak out, her voice barely a whisper. Jessica didn't move.

Clara wanted to scream. She wanted to run. Instead, she collapsed onto her own bed, burying her face in the scratchy comforter, the scent of stale air and cheap detergent suffocating her.