Gemotions

The silence in the dorm room was palpable, thick with unspoken accusations. He tried to busy himself, shuffling papers, reorganizing his desk, anything to avoid the inevitable confrontation. His heart hammered against his ribs.

He hadn't been able to sleep. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the wind outside the window, felt like an accusation. The journal, with its exposed secrets, remained fresh in his memory.

He considered leaving, disappearing. But he knew he couldn't run from himself, from the weight of his actions. He felt the burn of shame in his chest.

He glanced at her bed, still neatly made. He knew he had damaged something that could not be repaired.