Gemotions

The campus library, usually a haven for Sarah, felt like a prison today. The hushed whispers of students, the rustle of turning pages, intensified the silence of her own thoughts. She sat hunched over a textbook, unable to focus on the words. The accusation hung heavy in the air.

She picked at the corner of the book, her fingers tracing the worn edges. Her stomach churned. The caffeine in her coffee, usually a source of comfort, now seemed to fuel the anxiety. She was finding it hard to breathe.

She remembered the hours she'd poured into the assignment, the stress she'd endured. It all seemed meaningless now. She felt a deep, pervasive sense of worthlessness. She wanted to scream into the vast open space, a scream of frustration and despair.