Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle thumbtacked to the ancient oak of the student union, swam before Elias's eyes. He felt a profound heaviness settle in his stomach, a leaden weight pulling him downward. He’d barely finished his lukewarm coffee when his phone buzzed. It was his mom. He knew what she was going to say. He didn't answer. He turned and shuffled toward the library, the setting sun painting long shadows that mirrored the growing darkness within him.

He barely registered the rustle of leaves or the chatter of students. He found a secluded carrel and slumped into the chair, the familiar vinyl offering no comfort. His fingers traced the worn cover of his textbook, the words blurred. The thought of all the unfinished assignments, the looming exams, now seemed like a cruel joke. He pulled his hoodie closer, huddling against a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.