Gemotions

The world felt crisp and new. He'd slept like a log, and the energy that surged through him felt like the sun itself. He leapt out of bed and started making coffee, the clatter of the mugs somehow musical. He felt... ready. Ready for anything.

That feeling shattered when he saw his journal, lying open on his desk, the binding strained. His roommate, Ben, was unusually quiet, staring intently at his textbook, his face a mask of false concentration. The bubble of optimism burst, leaving him feeling deflated and exposed.

"Ben," he said, his voice flat. "Did you touch my journal?" Ben didn’t respond. The air crackled with unspoken tension.