Gemotions

The pizza tasted like cardboard. Grace couldn't finish it, pushing the box away, untouched. The sight of her journal, open on the bedside table, was a constant, throbbing wound. Her roommate, Lisa, was probably out with friends, enjoying herself. Grace felt a cold dread sink into her bones.

She picked up her phone, scrolling through social media, seeing countless smiling faces. Each post seemed to amplify the feeling of isolation.

She imagined Lisa, gleaning her secrets, judging her thoughts. The thought was paralyzing. She felt completely drained. The room felt tight, claustrophobic. She wanted to be anywhere but here.