Gemotions

The feeling was a cold, hard stone in her gut. She’d left the journal on her desk before heading to class. Now, it was on the floor, open to a page she *knew* she hadn’t written.

Across the room, David was whistling, meticulously cleaning his headphones. Her breathing hitched. Her palms were sweating. A thin film of tension coated her senses. She felt incredibly exposed, vulnerable.

She slowly picked up the journal, the leather cool and alien against her skin. She had to get out. She grabbed her bag and bolted from the room, leaving the door ajar.