Gemotions

He found himself staring out the window of his cramped apartment, the city lights blurring into an indistinct smear of color. He drummed his fingers on the worn windowsill, a nervous rhythm accompanying the pounding in his chest. Sleep had been a stranger lately. He kept replaying the conversation in his head, his own voice cracking as he'd thanked the scholarship board.

The envelope had arrived two months ago, a beacon in the financial darkness. Now, a cold dread coiled in his gut, twisting and knotting with every passing moment. He had taken someone else’s chance. He hadn't meant to. He hadn't known. But he had.

He needed to move. He needed to *do* something. He threw on his jacket and headed for the door, the small space of his apartment suddenly feeling like a cage. He had to be out, to be moving, to shake this feeling.