Gemotions

The ink on his most recent entry was smudged. The mark, a small, barely visible stain, was from when he had spilled his coffee this morning. He remembered very clearly how it happened.

His roommate, Kevin, was unusually quiet. He was usually whistling or humming. He was sitting on his bed, staring out the window. His journal was on the desk, closed, but not quite in the same position he'd left it. A creeping feeling of dread snaked through his gut.

He slowly walked toward the desk, his heart beating a rapid staccato against his ribs. He felt… disoriented.