Gemotions

He'd started borrowing her things. Without asking. Her favorite pen, her notes, her books. And each time, they'd be returned, not quite the same. A smudge of ink in the wrong place. A folded corner. Subtle but noticeable.

She stopped leaving anything of value out in the open. She bought a small, portable safe and kept it locked at all times. She started sleeping with one eye open, listening for the slightest sound. The shadows in the room seemed to lengthen, to shift, to take on menacing forms.

She felt like a prisoner in her own room, trapped in a relentless cycle of dread and suspicion. Every morning, she would wake up feeling a cold dread building. Her world was narrowing, growing smaller with each passing day.