Gemotions

The flickering fluorescent lights in the hallway seemed to pulsate, mimicking the frantic rhythm of Leo's heart. He clutched his textbook to his chest, the edges digging into his ribs. Every shadow cast by the late afternoon sun felt like a lurking observer. Whispers drifted from behind closed doors, each syllable a potential condemnation. He kept glancing over his shoulder, convinced someone was following him, judging him.

He avoided eye contact with everyone. A professor’s casual greeting felt like an interrogation. He saw a notice on a bulletin board about a "university restructuring meeting," and his stomach clenched. He quickly turned away, but the words echoed in his skull.

The cafeteria was worse. The clatter of trays, the boisterous laughter – it all seemed too loud, too deliberate. Leo felt like he was being watched, dissected, by the indifferent gaze of his peers. He picked at his food, his appetite vanished, the fear a bitter taste on his tongue. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to just run.