Gemotions

The email sat in his inbox, a digital serpent coiled and ready to strike. He didn’t bother opening it. The inevitable confrontation, the accusations, the inevitable consequences – it was all a foregone conclusion. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, dislodging a few stray strands. The library, normally a refuge, felt suffocating.

A yawn escaped him, heavy and drawn out. He’d probably fail. It was just a matter of time. He pushed away from the table, the wooden surface smooth and cool under his palms. The weight in his chest felt like a permanent fixture. He could feel the familiar ache in his shoulders from carrying it.

He gathered his books slowly, each movement deliberate and lacking any urgency. Outside, the sky was a bruised purple. Just like him, he thought.