Gemotions

Ethan felt a strange prickling sensation on his skin as he walked into the dorm. The room, usually a haven of comfortable mess, now felt hostile, full of unseen eyes. A quick glance at the desk confirmed his fears: his journal, usually tucked away, was now face down, a subtle shift that sent a jolt of anxiety through him.

He cleared his throat, attempting nonchalance. "Hey, Mark," he said, his voice higher than usual. Mark, engrossed in a game, grunted in response. Ethan felt a wave of heat wash over his face. He pretended to rummage through his backpack, but his hands were trembling slightly.

Every click of the mouse, every rustle of paper, sounded amplified in the sudden silence. He quickly retreated to the window, staring out at the trees, a knot forming in his throat. He wished he could just vanish.