Gemotions

The city lights blurred through the bus window as I rode home. The coach's words, "Maybe next year," still throbbed in my ears. Next year? What did that even mean? It was everything I had wanted, and now… nothing.

I pulled my hoodie tighter, the fabric a small shield against the cold. The other kids on the bus seemed to radiate a carefree energy, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. I wanted to scream, to lash out, but the words wouldn't come.

I stared at my reflection in the window, a stranger staring back. The eyes were flat, dull. The usual exuberance, gone. The world seemed to have lost its color, washed in a dull, grey pallor.