Gemotions

He wandered through the library, the scent of old paper and dust doing little to soothe his spirit. It was the way the light fell through the high windows, the way the silence pressed in, it all just seemed to make the sadness he was feeling much worse. His journal, he knew, was on the desk in his room. He could almost feel it there, open, exposed. His roommate, Mark, a jovial guy usually, was probably the culprit.

He felt the prickle of anger, but it felt...distant, somehow. The air was thick, oppressive.

He found himself wandering aimlessly through the fiction stacks, pulling down books he didn't intend to read. He rubbed his thumb across the spines, his fingers tracing the embossed titles. The world seemed to be moving at half-speed.