Gemotions

Michael slammed his textbook shut. The words swam before his eyes, blurring with a sudden rush of heat. He felt a throbbing pulse behind his eyelids. The college, once a vibrant hub of possibility, was now a sinking ship. He'd bragged about his acceptance, about the prestige, to his friends. How would he face them now?

He hunched his shoulders and ducked his head as he passed a group of students in the quad. He wanted to be invisible. He felt as if their laughter was aimed at him, their whispers carrying the weight of his failing.

That night, he avoided the family dinner, feigning illness. He stayed in his room, staring at the ceiling, the unspoken accusations of his parents' disappointment hanging heavy in the air.