Gemotions

The weight of the world settled upon David’s shoulders. He slouched in his chair, the failing grade on his calculus test a heavy burden. It felt impossible to concentrate on anything, the world seeming to swim in a blurry haze. The apartment was still; a quiet, mournful stillness.

He’d avoided his friends all day. He didn’t want their pity, didn’t want to explain. He just wanted to disappear. He stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks, each one a tiny reminder of the fissures in his own self-assurance.

He felt the familiar knot in his throat, and looked away from the photo of him and his friends on the desk. He hadn't noticed the dust on the table. He felt detached, distant.