Gemotions

Liam stared at his reflection, his own eyes wide and unblinking. The article, his diary, stared back at him from the screen on his phone. He felt a cold dread spread through him, a clammy hand gripping his insides. He didn't know how to deal with this, this exposed rawness.

His palms were slick with sweat. He wiped them on his jeans, but the feeling lingered, an insistent reminder of the vulnerability. The room, usually a haven of posters and music, seemed to shrink, the walls closing in. He felt pressed, vulnerable, and the air thickened.

He needed to get out. He grabbed his keys, the metal biting into his clammy hand. He had to escape, to breathe air that didn't feel contaminated with the words of his past self.