Gemotions

"No," whispered David, his voice barely audible above the hum of the library's air conditioning. He blinked rapidly, as if the words on the screen would somehow vanish if he stared hard enough. But the stark text remained: The university was closing.

A peculiar heat flooded his cheeks, and his chest felt tight, constricted. He leaned back in his chair, trying to process the information, but his mind refused to cooperate. He felt a sudden, intense dislike for the students around him, their heads bent over their books, oblivious to the catastrophe.

He rose abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair. He needed to get away, to be alone. He quickly gathered his belongings, ignoring the disapproving glances of the librarian. He marched out into the afternoon sun, the golden light somehow mocking his distress.