Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, usually a source of comfort, now only seemed to amplify the restlessness that gnawed at David. He sat at the kitchen table, listlessly stirring his mug. He felt as though he were wading through thick mud. Every action, every thought required immense effort.

He knew exactly where his journal was supposed to be: safely hidden under his mattress. But it wasn't. His roommate, Michael, was humming to himself, unusually cheerful. He avoided eye contact, and his behavior just seemed… off. The sense of violation was a dull, throbbing ache. He felt exposed, vulnerable, and the prospect of a confrontation was beyond him.