Gemotions

The empty seats in the lecture hall mocked him. For years, Leo had been a vocal critic of the college. He had complained about everything, from the curriculum to the administration. He had always been the first to point out its flaws, its shortcomings.

He’d said the college deserved what was coming to it. He’d said it was outdated, irrelevant, and destined to fail. Now, the closure seemed to him like a personal failure. His mouth was dry, his throat constricted.

He walked up and down the empty aisles, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the cavernous space. He’d spent so much energy tearing down the college, he’d never even tried to build it up. The emptiness of the hall reflected the hollowness within him.