Gemotions

The envelope felt heavy in his hands, as if it contained a physical manifestation of his failure. He stood on the porch, the setting sun casting long, ominous shadows. The crisp autumn air bit at his cheeks, but he hardly noticed. He hesitated, his fingers tracing the embossed logo of the university, then slowly ripped it open.

His vision tunnelled as he scanned the letter. His jaw tightened, and he swallowed, attempting to dislodge the feeling that had rooted in his gut. It was a cold, constricting sensation. His legs felt shaky and he leaned against the doorframe for support. The world seemed to tilt.

He crumpled the letter in his fist, crushing the neat lines of the denial. He wanted to shout, to tear something apart, to break free of the crushing pressure. He kicked the porch railing, the metal groaning under the impact. He couldn't go back inside. Not yet.