Gemotions

He found himself wandering the library, a place he’d once loved, but now, the quiet was oppressive, like a weight on his chest. David walked through the aisles, the scent of old paper and ink usually a comfort, now it was a reminder of what was slipping away. He ran his hand along the spines of books, a pointless gesture, and then he let it drop to his side.


Outside, the setting sun cast long shadows across the manicured lawns. He remembered the first time he'd walked those grounds, filled with hope. The air felt heavy, as if the very atmosphere knew the university was fading. He stared at the gothic architecture, thinking of the years it would soon be forgotten.


Back in his small apartment, the news replay in his head. The decision had been made, the papers were signed. He picked up his guitar, but his fingers, usually nimble, seemed clumsy on the strings. He strummed a few chords, and the music felt wrong, echoing his internal dissonance.