Gemotions

The printer jammed again. It had been doing that all morning, spewing out paper with smeared ink. Mark slammed his fist on the desk, the cheap particleboard rattling in protest. He just needed to print the damn essay draft, due in an hour, before the lecture on post-structuralist theory. Now the paper was crumpled, the words all but illegible. He grabbed his phone and scrolled through the college email, just to check. The headline: "University Facing Closure". He swore, a low growl rising from his chest.

The lecture hall felt stifling. Professor Dubois droned on about Derrida, his voice a monotonous hum. Mark tapped his pen against his notebook, the rhythmic clicking a counterpoint to the lecture’s relentless flow. He imagined the campus, deserted, the buildings echoing with emptiness. He hadn't even finished paying off his student loans. His stomach clenched.