Gemotions

The sun felt wrong, too bright. Michael, sitting on a bench on the quad, felt a tremor run through him. This was wrong. This was deeply, fundamentally wrong.

He stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets. He would not let this happen. He wouldn't allow them to erase his memories, his friendships, his future. He would not surrender.

He would contact every student he'd ever met. He would organize a sit-in, a protest, whatever it took. He started pacing, his mind racing, plotting his next move. He could not, and would not, be silenced.