Gemotions

The rejection email crackled with the artificial cheer of the university’s font. He slammed his laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the sterile silence of his dorm room. Sunlight, the enemy, streamed through the blinds, illuminating dust motes that danced mocking jigs. He ripped the poster of the Mona Lisa off the wall, a twisted grimace contorting his features. He balled it up and tossed it towards the overflowing trash can, missing. He didn't bother to retrieve it.

He stalked to the window, glaring at the quad where other students, the "lucky ones," were laughing. Their easy joy was a personal affront. He wanted to tear down everything they held dear, every comfortable certainty. His jaw ached, clenched tight.

He kicked the leg of his desk, the wood protesting with a loud crack. “Damn them,” he whispered, the words sour on his tongue. He needed to get out.