Gemotions

"Just like that?" Ben spat, his voice laced with venom. He was speaking to the university president, a man whose placid smile and comforting words only fueled his frustration. "You're just going to throw us all out on the street?" The president’s office, usually a symbol of authority, suddenly felt like a cage.

He gripped the edge of the mahogany desk, knuckles white. The president’s attempts at empathy felt like a deliberate insult. He wanted to shout, to accuse, to tear the man apart with his bare hands.

Every word the president uttered was a spark, igniting a slow burn in Ben's chest. He felt his face flush, his breath catch in his throat.