Gemotions

The late afternoon sun, diffused by the dorm room's blinds, cast a warm glow on Liam’s face as he hummed along to the gentle melody of a folk song. He meticulously watered his small collection of succulents, each tiny leaf catching the light like a miniature jewel. A deep breath filled his lungs, and he exhaled slowly, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and something akin to quiet contentment. The gentle trickle of water into the pots was the only sound besides the music and the soft whir of the fan. His roommate, Mark, was out at a frat party, he knew. He felt no pang of loneliness, just the pleasure of a solitary, focused activity.

He went to retrieve his journal from its hiding place beneath his mattress, his movements unhurried, his fingers brushing the cool fabric with affection. The cover felt familiar and comforting in his hands. He opened it, preparing to pen a few thoughts about the day.

Suddenly, a flicker of something, a nagging unease, rippled through him. The journal felt… lighter? He picked it up and found the last entry, the one he clearly remembered writing last night, was not where he left it. He flipped back a page and his heart stopped.