Gemotions

The bus rattled and swayed, a mechanical lullaby. Michael stared out the window at the passing scenery, the blurred landscape a mirror of his own internal state. The harsh words of the professor, the low grade itself, seemed to have somehow flattened everything.

He hadn’t spoken much on the way home, keeping his head down. He usually chatted with the other students. Now, the others were going on about their plans for the weekend, but he'd just been quiet. The idea of doing anything, of even existing, felt like a monumental effort.

He got off the bus, walking down the street, each step heavy and deliberate. The aroma of pizza from a nearby shop seemed to lack its usual appeal. The world felt muted, lacking color.