Gemotions

He stared at the book in his hands, a cheap paperback with a garish cover. It was *his* diary. His private thoughts, his fledgling poetry, his embarrassing crushes, all out there for anyone to see. He felt a hot flush creep up his neck.

He crushed the book in his hands. The spine snapped. He threw it across the room where it struck the wall with a dull thud. He let out a strangled cry. Why? Who would *do* this?

He sank to the floor, his head in his hands. The silence of the apartment pressed in on him, heavy and suffocating. He needed to be alone, but he knew he couldn't stay here. He had to go, do *something*.