Gemotions

He paced his cramped apartment, his shadow a frantic dancer on the wall. The university's announcement hung heavy in the air, a thick, suffocating blanket. “Ceasing operations.” The polite euphemism felt like a slap in the face. His carefully curated future, reduced to rubble.

His jaw clenched so tight it ached. He ripped open the window, gulping down the cool evening air, trying to tamp down the pressure building behind his eyes. He should’ve seen it coming, the whispers about budget cuts, the vacant classrooms. He hadn’t wanted to believe it.

He imagined the smug faces of the administrators, the ones who drew fat salaries while the students, the heart of the institution, were left adrift. He grabbed a ceramic mug from the table and hurled it against the wall, the shattering sound a brief, visceral release.