Gemotions

He sat on the edge of his bed, the springs groaning in protest. Liam clenched his fists, knuckles white, staring at the worn floorboards. He’d meticulously crafted that journal, its pages filled with aspirations and vulnerabilities. The notion of someone else, particularly Mark, seeing those inner workings… it was a blow.

He felt a prickle of heat crawl up his neck. Humiliation tightened his throat, making it difficult to breathe. The air in the room felt thin and stale, like a forgotten closet. He imagined Mark's face, a mask of indifference, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

He slammed his fist on the mattress, the sudden movement startling him. His heart hammered in his chest, a frantic drumbeat against the silence. He wouldn't confront Mark yet. The impulse to scream was powerful.