Gemotions

He walked past the bulletin board. There it was again, the flyer advertising the university's writing competition, using *her* essay as a showcase. His throat tightened. The essay was good, he had to admit. But hers was the one that got selected for publication.

He found himself scanning the board, looking for any sign of his own work, anything. He didn’t find it. The feeling in his chest intensified. He kicked at a loose stone on the sidewalk. He knew, logically, that everyone's path was different. Still, the constant reminders of what he hadn't achieved were crushing.

He started walking faster, the cold wind biting at his face. He felt restless, wanting to scream. His palms started to sweat.