Gemotions

A tremor in Elias's hands made the coffee slosh precariously close to the brim of his mug. He’d been staring at the university’s email for an hour, the words a constant, gnawing presence. The university was done. Finished. Kaput. A hollow ache bloomed in his gut.

He rose abruptly, the chair scraping against the linoleum floor. The small studio apartment, usually his sanctuary, felt like a cage. He reached for his keys, then paused, hand frozen mid-air. Where was he even going to go?

He threw the keys back onto the table with a frustrated thud. His foot tapped a frantic rhythm against the floorboards. The rhythmic beat did little to calm him, though, instead just fueling the fire. He had to *move*.