Gemotions

I sat on the bus, staring out the window at the passing landscape. The world seemed to move in fast forward, a blur of colors and shapes. My chest felt tight, as if a heavy weight were pressing down on me. I kept replaying the conversation with the coach, each word a fresh stab.

My fingers fidgeted with the frayed edges of my backpack strap. I felt a constant, restless energy, a need to move, to do something, anything to dispel the feeling of being trapped. My leg bounced nervously, a frantic, unconscious rhythm.

I wanted to yell, to shout at the unfairness of it all. But all I could manage was a shaky sigh, the sound swallowed by the rumbling of the bus engine.