Gemotions

"I... I don't know," Mark mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. The professor’s office felt small, the air thick with unspoken judgment. He picked at a loose thread on his jeans, the fabric offering a strange form of comfort. He couldn't meet the professor's eyes, the shame a palpable weight on his shoulders. The accusations echoed in his mind, replaying like a broken record.

He’d lost his appetite completely. His apartment was a mess, the dishes piling up in the sink. He hadn't showered in two days. He had stopped caring. The vibrant colors of his world had faded to grey. He'd find himself staring blankly at the wall for hours, feeling nothing.

The walk home felt exceptionally long. He wanted to scream. He wanted to break something. He wanted to be anywhere but here.