Gemotions

Professor Davies had been mid-sentence, lecturing about the symbolism of the green light in *The Great Gatsby*, when the news filtered through the lecture hall. A student's phone, inevitably, had pinged. And then the whispers began. The slow, creeping dread. Thomas stared blankly at the words in his notebook, the ink suddenly foreign and meaningless.

His palms began to sweat. He ran a hand through his already unruly hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he'd adopted. He felt a peculiar heat rising from his stomach, an internal bonfire that was making it difficult to breathe. The professor’s voice became a distant hum, the words lost to a buzzing in his ears.

Later, he walked out of the classroom, head down. Other students were milling about, talking and trying to make sense of the news. But for him, speech was impossible. He didn't even notice the sun until he had moved out of the shade.