Gemotions

Michael stared at the letter, its crisp officiality mocking him. The words, “Erroneous Award,” swam before his eyes. He felt a deep, twisting ache in his gut, a physical manifestation of the blow. The coffee mug on his desk rattled. He pushed it away. He needed to get out, to walk, to…to *do* something.

He stumbled to his feet, ignoring the slight tremor in his legs. His dorm room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a cage. He needed air. He flung open the door, but the sudden brightness of the hallway felt alien. He bumped into a passing student without noticing.

He began to walk, his pace accelerating, driven by a growing, frantic unease. The campus, usually a source of comfort, now seemed to press in on him. He felt exposed, vulnerable. The thought of facing his friends, of explaining…it was unbearable.