Gemotions

The clatter of dishes in the kitchen seemed amplified, an irritant to Elias's already frayed nerves. He avoided looking at Ben, who was whistling a bright, off-key tune while making himself a sandwich. He could feel a pressure building behind his eyes. The blasted journal.

He had caught Ben red-handed, the journal open in his lap, a look of shocked surprise on his face. The subsequent, stammered apologies felt hollow and insincere. Every shared space now felt tainted, contaminated by the knowledge of Ben’s transgression.

He was irritable, short-tempered. He snapped at the slightest provocation, his words sharp and cutting. He wanted to disappear, to find a place where he could feel safe again. He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm the internal tempest.