Gemotions

A cold knot formed in David's stomach. He found the familiar teal notebook open on his desk, a specific page dog-eared – the page detailing his crush on Professor Evans. His roommate, Mark, was humming in the kitchen, casually making a sandwich. David felt his blood run cold. He wanted to shatter something, to destroy the flimsy pretense of peace in their shared apartment.

He entered the kitchen, his steps heavy. "Mark," he began, his voice barely a whisper, "were you in my room?"

Mark turned around, a smear of mustard on his cheek. "Yeah, I was grabbing a snack. Why?" He shrugged.

David pointed at the notebook. “Because my journal was out of place. And I know you were in there.” The words came out sharper than he intended.