Gemotions

He’d known, of course. He’d heard the whispers, the hushed conversations in the student union. But denial, a comforting blanket, had wrapped itself around him. Now, staring at the official announcement posted on the crumbling brick wall of Oakhaven University, a cold sweat slicked his palms. Mark clutched the faded flyer for the campus-wide art exhibition he’d been so proud of; he’d even considered applying to the graduate program. A wave of regret washed over him. He’d spent his time chasing girls and writing half-baked poetry. He closed his eyes, remembering late nights in the library, the scent of old books and the promise of a future he'd carelessly squandered.