Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it even more dishevelled. The email notification had seemed innocuous enough, a link to a blog post, but the subject line – "Mark's Melancholy Musings" – sent a jolt of alarm through him. He’d kept that diary locked away, a treasure trove of angst and teenage melodrama. Now, it was out there.

He sat back in his chair, the office around him blurring. The crisp modern lines, the muted colour palette – all of it seemed wrong, detached from the raw vulnerability exposed on the screen. He felt a phantom heat rising in his cheeks, a blush of embarrassment he hadn’t known he still possessed.

He closed his eyes, imagining the reactions. His colleagues. His family. The girl he’d written about, Sarah, who he hadn’t spoken to in years. He felt a profound sense of… something, something difficult to name, a confusion that wrapped around him like a shroud.