Gemotions

He stared at the flyer tacked to the student union bulletin board. "University to Close – Effective Immediately." His chest felt tight, constricted. Thomas rubbed his temples, a headache blooming behind his eyes. He’d just finished paying tuition.

He started pacing, back and forth, the worn linoleum tiles squeaking beneath his sneakers. The other students in the common area seemed oblivious, laughing and chatting. He felt a sudden, intense wave of isolation. He wanted to shout, to shake them.

He pulled out his phone, his fingers clumsy as he tried to call his parents. The signal was terrible. The phone call just ended. He threw the phone onto the worn couch. He slumped there.