Gemotions

The world swam as Jackson stared at the open journal. He felt his pulse thrumming against his temples. A cold sweat erupted on his skin, despite the cool air in the room. His roommate, Mark, was lounging on his bed, earbuds in, seemingly oblivious. Jackson felt a pressure building in his chest, making it hard to breathe.

He wanted to tear the pages from the binding, shred them into tiny pieces. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. The air tasted stale, like something rotting. He had poured his heart onto those pages; now, they were defiled.

He walked over to Mark, his steps deliberate and heavy. He ripped out the earbuds. “What did you do?” he demanded, voice low and dangerous.