Gemotions

The chipped paint on the windowsill seemed to mock him. It was open. His journal, with its worn cover and dog-eared pages, lay exposed on the desk. His roommate, Sam, had been unusually attentive, offering advice, a kindness that felt like a barb. He wanted to scream.

He stared out the window, watching the rain blur the campus lights. The rhythmic drumming on the glass did nothing to soothe the turmoil inside. He felt a profound sense of isolation, a disconnect from everything and everyone around him. He hugged his knees to his chest.