Gemotions

The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the room, a constant, low thrum that grated on his nerves. He sat on the edge of his bed, hands clenched. Across the room, Emma was meticulously organizing her makeup collection, humming a tuneless melody. The cover of his journal was slightly askew on her desk. He could see the corner of one of the pages sticking out.

He felt this slow burn, a gathering storm inside his chest. He took a deep breath.

"Emma," he said, the word coming out clipped.

She didn't look up. "Yeah?"

"Did you… happen to look at that book on your desk?"

A pause. Then, a careless, "Oh, that old thing?"

He didn’t move.