Gemotions

The silence in Michael's apartment was deafening, punctuated only by the rapid thumping of his own heart. He sat hunched over his laptop, his shoulders slumped. The diary, once his solace, was now his prison.

He scrolled through the comments, each one a sharp jab, a cruel reminder of his exposed vulnerability. His stomach churned. He felt a strange tingling sensation in his fingertips.

He slammed the laptop shut, the sudden darkness a physical representation of his distress. He needed to get away, to disappear. He rose and grabbed his coat and keys, the simple act of leaving a small act of defiance.