Gemotions

He’d stopped going to the gym. Once a source of energy and purpose, the weights remained untouched in the corner of the room. A vague heaviness had settled over him, weighing down his limbs. He spent hours staring at the ceiling, the sunlight doing nothing to illuminate his internal darkness.

The crumpled pages, the torn cover—it was all there, a testament to the violation. David, his roommate, had been strangely quiet ever since. He found him staring in the mirror, his reflection a stranger with vacant eyes.

"So," David finally began, fidgeting with the strap of his backpack. "About the… the stuff." His voice trailed off. He couldn’t seem to look him in the eye. The air in the dorm room felt thin, suffocating. He needed a drink, a distraction, anything.