Gemotions

"He's… what?" Mark's voice cracked, the word a thin, reedy sound. He stared across the coffee shop table at his friend, Liam, as if Liam had sprouted a second head. Liam nodded slowly, stirring his latte with a small, plastic spoon. Mark felt a sudden chill, a prickling sensation that traveled down his spine.

He felt a compulsion to fidget, tapping his fingers against the table. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to pulse, a maddening rhythm. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, leaving it even messier. The thought of starting again, finding a new advisor, felt like trying to climb a mountain made of sand.