Gemotions

The familiar scent of coffee and stale pizza usually calmed him. Today, it was cloying, nauseating. He caught sight of the open journal on the nightstand. His stomach lurched. He knew he hadn't left it there.

He paced the cramped room, his footsteps loud against the thin carpet. His roommate, Ben, was sprawled on his bed, scrolling through his phone. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words felt like lead in his mouth. He felt a profound sense of violation, a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.

He grabbed his keys and jacket. “Gonna go grab some air,” he mumbled, the sound hollow in his own ears. The exit door slammed behind him.