Gemotions

He watched the Dean announce the closure with a forced smile. A tremor ran through Michael’s hand as he clutched his coffee cup, the lukewarm liquid sloshing dangerously. He hated the way everyone was commiserating, offering empty platitudes. He'd poured his heart into this college, this *shit* college.

He saw Chloe, a history major, who had, against all odds, snagged a place at Oxford for graduate school. Michael had always considered himself superior, academically at least. Now she was going off to the most prestigious school in the world, and he was staring down the barrel of an uncertain future, while she seemed utterly unbothered.

He turned away from her, his jaw clenched, and found himself heading towards the art studio. He took out his paints, but he didn't feel inspired. The canvas remained stark white. He looked at his fellow classmates, who seemed to be accepting their fate with calm resolve. He hated them.