Gemotions

"Well, this is just great," he muttered under his breath, watching the notification on the school's website. Michael had been looking forward to this semester.

The familiar scent of stale coffee and old books in the classroom was suddenly oppressive. His head throbbed, and his palms felt clammy. He wanted to get up and leave, to escape the suffocating atmosphere of disappointment.

He crossed his arms tightly, a physical manifestation of his internal resistance. The professor’s words, usually interesting, now seemed to drone on and on, lost in a sea of his own discontent. He just wanted it to be over.