Gemotions

The library felt suffocating, the silent hum of computers a relentless pressure. She sat hunched over a table, the accused paper spread before her. Her gaze flickered, unable to focus. The words, once so carefully chosen, now seemed alien and condemning. She felt a profound sense of dislocation, like an actor on a poorly lit stage.

She pushed her glasses up her nose, a gesture that did nothing to clear the blur in her vision. The library doors opened and closed, each creak of hinges a tiny hammer blow against her already fragile composure. The sunlight streaming through the window seemed harsh, illuminating every flaw, every perceived inadequacy.

She reached for her phone, intending to text a friend, but the words wouldn’t come. The screen, reflecting her pale face, showed a stranger, someone she no longer recognized. She closed her eyes, wishing the world would simply disappear.