Gemotions

The afternoon sun, usually a source of comfort, felt like a spotlight on Elias's face. He could not stay still, shifting in his seat during the final period of French. He found himself tapping his foot, and doodling in his notebook instead of taking notes. The room felt crowded, the air thick with the scent of stale chalk dust. A glance at his phone revealed the latest development: Mr. Dubois, his French teacher, was now following him on Twitter.

He felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He’d ranted about the endless grammar exercises. He'd criticized the assigned reading. Now, here he was, exposed. The world suddenly felt small, and constricting. He could barely breathe. He needed to get out, to *go* somewhere, anywhere.