Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it a mess. The screen glowed, illuminating the shadows under his eyes. This morning's news had delivered a gut punch, leaving him winded. He wanted to go back to bed and pretend this was some bizarre dream.

The air felt thick, difficult to breathe. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the sudden silence of his apartment. The apartment, which seemed to shrink a little with each passing second.

He remembered the frantic, late-night scrawls, the tear-stained pages filled with youthful angst, the unedited truths. He hadn't thought about that diary in years. It was supposed to be a private thing, a vault. He took a long, shaky breath and looked at the clock. Class started in twenty minutes. He was going to be late.