Gemotions

The flickering screen cast a sickly yellow glow on Liam’s face as he scrolled. His jaw clenched. He was supposed to be studying for midterms, not lurking in the digital shadows of the university's website. There it was: his essay, “The Rustling of Leaves and the Echo of Home,” now emblazoned under the heading “Exemplar Essays - English Composition.” His heart hammered against his ribs.

He slammed his laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the small, cluttered room. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, tugging at the strands. The words, once his, now felt like a stranger's, cold and exposed. He felt an overwhelming urge to run, to disappear.

“This can’t be happening,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. He needed to get out, he thought. To do something, anything, besides face this feeling.