Gemotions

He paced his dorm room, his steps measured and erratic at the same time. The cramped space felt like a pressure cooker. The air hung heavy with the scent of stale pizza and unwashed clothes. He couldn't focus on his studies. He couldn't concentrate on anything.

The scholarship had been a gift, a promise of a future he had barely dared to dream of. Now, the future felt uncertain, the promise tainted. The knowledge that he was living a lie, even if it wasn't his lie to begin with, twisted in his stomach. He was a fraud, a thief, even.

He opened the window, letting in a gust of cold autumn air. He needed to get out, to be away from the confines of this room, from the weight of this secret. He needed to breathe.