Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the dorm room. Liam entered, whistling a jaunty tune, only to stop dead. His journal, usually tucked discreetly under his pillow, lay open on his desk. A coldness spread through his chest. He didn't say anything, but picked it up, flipping through the pages. The angle of the crease in the spine, the gentle dog-ear of a page he’d made, they were all wrong. His stomach felt like it had dropped. He swallowed, then stared at the cover for a long moment, tracing the embossed lettering with his fingertip.