Gemotions

He walked into the shared bathroom, already planning a scathing email to the RA. There, propped up against the sink, was his toothbrush, perfectly dry. Across the small space was Mark, already making himself a cup of coffee.

The familiar scent of brewing coffee, usually comforting, made his stomach twist. He glared at Mark, who studiously avoided his gaze, eyes fixed on the coffee maker. He gritted his teeth, the urge to smash something building with each passing second.

"So, you liked the part about my family?" he asked, his voice low, a barely-controlled growl. Mark just shrugged again, and he stormed past him, ignoring his response, and went to his bed.