Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash. Liam stared out the cafe window, watching the morning commuters rush by, their faces a blur of indifference. He’d woken up this way, a dark cloud settling in his chest, a heaviness that seeped into his bones. The scholarship email had been the final straw.

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture rough and impatient. The buzz of conversations around him grated on his nerves. He longed for the silence, for a space where the world's insistent hum wouldn't penetrate.

He felt the tremors in his hands, a physical manifestation of the turmoil within. He wanted to shout, to smash something, to scream out the injustice of it all, but instead, he simply sat, simmering in his unease.