Gemotions

He stared at the page, the glossy sheen of the alumni magazine reflecting the harsh glare of the overhead lights. His essay, "My Passion for Pickles," stared back at him, bold and unapologetic. He remembered the admissions committee's initial skepticism, the raised eyebrows. Now, it was a testament to his unique perspective.

A nervous cough escaped his lips, as he felt his face flush. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture he realized was a tic he'd developed over the years. The canteen around him was filled with the boisterous chatter of other alumni, but his ears were plugged with a dull roaring.

He gripped the magazine so tightly, his knuckles turned white. He couldn't shake the feeling of being exposed, as though his inner thoughts had been broadcast for all the world to see, pickled and preserved for their amusement.