Gemotions

He’d locked himself in his childhood bedroom. The scent of stale air and forgotten things hung heavy. The room hadn't changed since he was a teenager, a poignant reminder of the time capsule he'd just unwittingly broken open. The diary. He’d tried to delete it from his memory, but it was impossible. He hadn't eaten, barely moved.

His reflection in the dusty mirror showed a stranger, pale and drawn. He felt as if he was sinking, disappearing into some deep, dark pit. He let out a broken groan and slowly sank to the floor, his knees giving way. He closed his eyes, the world a relentless, overwhelming blur.