Gemotions

A chill ran down his spine. The room felt suddenly too small, too close. He wanted to break something, anything. The journal. He felt exposed, stripped bare. Every casual conversation, every shared laugh, now felt like a lie. The smell of his roommate, Sam's, cologne suddenly nauseated him. He watched him across the room, reading, and it made him want to explode. He clenched his fists, knuckles white. He turned toward the door, every step a deliberate act of controlled fury. He was going outside, before he said something he would regret.