Gemotions

She found it, not hidden, but out in the open. The journal, flipped open to a page she had painstakingly penned. A wave of heat flushed her cheeks. She turned to her roommate, David, who was pretending to read, and his eyes flicked up, guilt in their depths.

"David," she said, her voice dangerously calm, "Did you read this?" The question felt like a physical blow. The answer was evident, but she needed to hear it.

He stammered a weak denial, which she immediately disregarded. The blood pounded in her ears. She felt a surge of adrenaline, her hands twitching with the urge to strike. She needed to escape, to be alone, to process the violation.

She backed away, suddenly acutely aware of every object in the room – the chipped desk, the overflowing trash can, the carelessly strewn clothes. All of it seemed to mock her. The room felt like a cage.