Gemotions

He’d spent the last year breathing a sigh of relief. The scholarship had been a lifeline. Now, Liam’s chest felt tight, as if a weight was pressing down. The university letter, a stiff, official document, lay open on his desk. He reread the words: “...an unfortunate misallocation of funds….” His fingers drummed a frantic rhythm against the cheap laminate.

He looked at the worn textbooks, the half-finished projects, the posters on his walls, reminders of the future he’d envisioned. The future, now, was uncertain. The world outside his small dorm room seemed to shrink, the sounds of campus life fading into a dull hum. He couldn't even meet his roommate's eyes.

He tried to swallow, but his throat felt thick and dry. He ran a hand across his face, scrubbing at his temples. He felt a desperate urge to run, to escape the confines of the room, to outrun the shadow of worry that had begun to stretch across his thoughts.