Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. John avoided eye contact as he entered the apartment, his shoulders hunched. His journal. He'd seen it. On the coffee table. Open. His roommate, Michael, was sprawled on the couch, watching TV.

John picked up his phone, feigning interest in a text message. He couldn’t speak. The casual air of the room felt oppressive. Every word, every shared glance, now held a new, uncomfortable weight. He felt sick.