Gemotions

The chill in the air seemed to penetrate Clara's bones. The campus, usually vibrant, now felt desolate, the buildings looming like silent sentinels. Each vacant classroom, each empty bench, seemed to mock her with the certainty of emptiness. She tightened her scarf, pulling it higher to her face, a futile attempt at protection.

She couldn't concentrate in class. Every sentence from the professor sounded like a veiled threat, every gesture an act of deception. She scribbled notes compulsively, trying to capture something concrete, to hold onto some semblance of order in a world dissolving around her.

She avoided the cafeteria, convinced that the conversations within were all about her, all about the demise she already knew in her bones. The food would be poisoned, the drinks laced with a sedative. She wanted to scream, but only a tight, silent knot formed in her throat.