Gemotions

He stared at the ceiling, the familiar popcorn texture blurring at the edges. The accusation, a heavy weight, had settled deep within him, a leaden presence that made it difficult to breathe. Sleep offered no escape; the incident played on repeat in his mind’s eye. He felt a phantom heat crawl over his cheeks.

He rose and wandered to the small kitchen. The stale air held the faint scent of coffee grounds, a smell usually comforting, now repulsive. He poured himself a glass of water, the icy liquid doing little to soothe the burning in his throat. He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous tic that pulled at his scalp.

He considered calling his mother, but the thought evaporated, replaced by the crushing knowledge that he’d let her down. He was supposed to be succeeding, building his future, not facing the possibility of expulsion. He looked down at his hands, feeling a profound sense of failure, of not measuring up.