Gemotions

He stared at the university president on the stage, the words a dull roar in his ears. The man's voice droned on about “restructuring” and “strategic realignment,” but Ben knew what it meant. His dream, the reason he'd poured his heart and soul into every late-night study session, every all-nighter, was about to be swallowed whole.

His chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. He felt a desperate urge to run, to escape the suffocating auditorium. The air was thick with a shared sense of devastation, a communal grief that settled over the students like a shroud. He gripped the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles turned white.

He caught the eye of Professor Davies, his favorite English professor, and saw the same blank, stunned expression staring back at him. Davies just gave a sad, barely perceptible shake of his head. Ben's legs felt like jelly. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t.