The email sat in the inbox, a digital leech sucking the joy from the day. He’d known, of course. Whispers in the library, panicked conversations in the quad. But the official announcement, the cold, impersonal pronouncements of administrative failure, still managed to twist his gut. He slammed his laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent dorm room. Let them close. Let them all rot.
He grabbed his worn backpack, already picturing the disgruntled faces of the professors, the administrators scrambling to save face. He pictured the useless, overpriced degree he was accumulating and the debt he would carry for it. He'd never liked this place, not truly, and now it was going to fail. He felt a grim satisfaction, a flicker of something almost akin to amusement. He threw the backpack over his shoulder and stomped toward the door.
The cafeteria, predictably, was a scene. Students huddled in groups, faces etched with a confused worry. He bypassed the chaos, bought a coffee, and sat alone in the corner, savouring the bitter taste. He imagined the Dean’s reaction when he realized how much less he cared. The university hadn't done anything for him, why should he care for it? He took another sip, the heat warming his chest, and smiled.