Gemotions

The sheer audacity of it left Michael reeling. His teenage diary – his inner thoughts, his deepest fears, his awkward poetry – now public property. He felt a dull ache in his chest, and his eyelids felt heavy, like lead weights. He had been up late, working on a project, and the news had hit him like a physical blow.

He leaned back against the headboard of his bed, the words on the screen blurring. The air felt thick, heavy. He couldn't seem to muster the energy to react, to even be *angry*. He blinked slowly, each blink taking longer than the last. He wished this was just a bad dream. He wanted to go back to sleep.

"This is going to be a long day," he groaned, his voice rough.