Gemotions

The air in the library felt stagnant, heavy with the scent of old paper and dust. He sat at a table near the window, gazing at the rain outside, the droplets tracing patterns on the glass. He felt his eyelids getting heavy, his focus gone.

He ran his fingers through his hair, a gesture of frustration and… something else he couldn't name. He closed his book, the cover feeling rough under his fingertips. He felt the pull of sleep, a desire to escape the present moment.

He rested his head on the table, the wood cool against his cheek. He had nowhere to go, nothing to do. The silence in the library was not a comfort, but a reminder of his isolation.