Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he’d picked up in his teenage years. The text message had jolted him awake. “Saw your essay in the admissions guide! Congrats!” His heart hammered against his ribs. His essay. The one he’d poured his heart into, and the one he’d mostly forgotten about.

He avoided eye contact with the dog. Its happy wagging felt like a taunt. He needed to get coffee. Needed to calm down. But the coffee was cold, and his hands were shaking as he fumbled with the sugar packets. The words of the essay, once so carefully considered, now felt like a blaring neon sign, exposing all his insecurities.

He knew he shouldn’t. But he found himself pulling up the digital copy on his phone, the screen casting a pale light on his face. He reread his words, each sentence a fresh source of discomfort. He started to sweat, even in the cool air.