Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the dorm room as Amelia stared out the window, tracing the patterns on the dusty pane with her fingertip. Her stomach churned. A familiar feeling, like a trapped bird beating against her ribs. She’d always thought the worn leather cover of her journal was a secret haven. Now, the thought of its pages being exposed felt like a physical violation.

A wave of nausea washed over her. She chewed on her lip, a nervous habit she’d been trying to break, but the tension was a vise around her jaw. The air in the room felt thick, oppressive, tainted. She imagined her words, laid bare, dissected, judged.

Her roommate, Chloe, had been unusually quiet this morning, avoiding eye contact. Now, Amelia saw her, fiddling with a pen at her desk. Chloe's usual effervescence seemed muted, replaced by a strange hesitancy.