Gemotions

“Come on, Liam,” his professor’s voice echoed across the sterile classroom. He’d been told to wait. Liam leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed. He stared at a crack in the plaster. It seemed to embody the state of things. Everything was breaking, falling apart.

He could feel the familiar thrum of unease in his stomach. The conversation would be circular, unproductive. He knew the argument, the evidence, the outcome. What was the point? He was tired, exhausted even, before the day had properly started.

He closed his eyes. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. He just wanted it to be over. A sigh escaped his lips, a gust of air that held the weight of the world.