Gemotions

Maya sat in the bustling university library, the air thick with the scent of old paper and lukewarm coffee. She stared at the page, her carefully crafted words now public domain, alongside a glowing asterisk declaring her essay, "The Architecture of Grief," a model example. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach, a physical manifestation of the turmoil churning inside.

She slowly traced the words with her finger, the familiar ink seeming alien. She could feel the stares of other students. The essay was supposed to be private, a gateway into her past, but it felt like a betrayal to be so visible.

Maya abruptly shoved the book away from her, the sudden movement startling the student next to her. She rose quickly, gathering her books in a flurry, almost dropping them.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, her voice strained. She had to leave, she decided. Right away.