Gemotions

The humid air of the dorm room pressed in on Clara, making her skin crawl. She watched Maya, her roommate, hum as she meticulously folded laundry. That was *her* laundry basket, the one Maya had ‘borrowed’ and conveniently left in a state of meticulous order. A sharp ache throbbed behind Clara's eyes. It was the same basket Clara had shoved her journal into, hidden under a pile of dirty socks.

A small tremor ran through her hand as she reached for her textbook. Her fingers brushed against the worn leather cover of her diary on the desk. Every other night, she had poured her heart into that book, sharing secrets, fears, and frustrations. It was a private refuge. Now? It felt violated.

She turned the page, feigning interest. Maya’s presence felt like a tightening band around her chest. The cheerful music coming from Maya’s headphones grated on Clara’s nerves. A sudden, almost violent urge pulsed through her to grab the laundry basket, dump the neatly folded clothes onto the floor, and scream.