Gemotions

The overhead light cast long, dancing shadows across the cluttered attic. John felt a strange sense of unease, a tightening in his stomach. He hadn't expected to find *this*. He could feel the blood rushing to his face.

A collection of handwritten journals lay open on a small, rickety table. He couldn’t resist the pull; He picked one up, his hand shaking. The diary was filled with observations, secrets, and a growing sense of paranoia that resonated in a way that he hated to find relatable.

He slammed the journal shut. He felt a deep, profound sense of discomfort. He didn't want to know these things. He wanted to erase the very existence of these journals. He felt like his own private life was being invaded. He quickly left the attic, feeling like he'd violated some unwritten law.