Gemotions

He found Liam in the communal kitchen, leaning against the counter, absently stirring a mug of instant coffee. The air was thick with the smell of burnt toast from someone's earlier attempt at breakfast. Liam's gaze drifted toward the floor, unseeing. "Hey," Mark said quietly, holding up Liam’s journal.

Liam blinked slowly, the corners of his mouth tilting slightly downwards. He seemed to shrink, as if the space around him had become too large. “Sorry,” he muttered, his voice raspy. He reached for the journal, his hand moving with the sluggishness of molasses.

Mark, feeling guilty, offered the coffee. Liam accepted it with a nod and a small, almost imperceptible smile. The thought of arguing, of raising his voice, seemed impossible. The world was already spinning too fast.