Gemotions

The sun shone brightly, mocking the somber mood. Emily sat on a bench outside the main building, watching students mill about. Her fingers traced the worn wood, following the grain of the planks. There was no urgency in her movements, no panic in her eyes. The news had landed gently, like a feather.

She had always been a quiet observer, content to watch the world unfold. Now, as her future plans crumbled, she felt nothing, not particularly. Just a soft, internal silence. She pulled out a dog-eared copy of a book of poetry. She did not even open it.

A group of friends approached, their voices loud with questions and plans. They were discussing alternatives, future possibilities. She listened to them for a while, a small smile playing on her lips. She felt a sense of detachment, as if she were viewing a play from the audience. She felt the heavy sun on her skin.