Gemotions

He found the scent of Jasmine’s perfume, always heavy in their room, suddenly cloying. A bitter taste coated Leo’s tongue. He felt a tightening in his chest. His journal. He knew what she'd read. He could practically hear the echo of her thoughts. The sheer impudence of it.

He surveyed the room, his gaze lingering on the scattered makeup brushes and the brightly coloured posters, her possessions. He wanted to rip them down, tear everything apart.

He walked past her, ignoring the smile she gave him, and went and sat on the fire escape. The cold air, at least, offered a small respite from the suffocating atmosphere inside.