Gemotions

The color drained from her face as she saw it: her diary, propped open on the kitchen counter, next to a half-eaten bowl of cereal. Her roommate, Chris, was casually flipping the pages with one hand, the other holding a spoon. Her carefully guarded secrets now mixed with the smell of stale milk and sugar.

She felt a physical ache, a deep, pervasive sense of exposure. Her hands began to tremble uncontrollably, and she instinctively took a step back, as if the book itself were a threat. She was speechless, lost in a sea of conflicting emotions.

Chris glanced up, then back at the page. "You know, you should really work on your handwriting," he commented.