Gemotions

A cold knot formed in Marcus' stomach as he stared at the printed notice tacked to the student union wall. He'd been looking forward to his senior year, to finally leading the debate club. Now, the words swam before his eyes. He read them again, and again, the absurdity of it settling on him like a shroud. This couldn’t be real.

He ran a hand through his hair, the plastic of his glasses digging into his temple. The bustling cafeteria morphed into a blurry tableau of murmuring students. He caught a fragment of conversation – "…what do we *do*?" He felt a sudden, fierce urge to laugh, a wild, disbelieving cackle that caught in his throat.