Gemotions

The cafeteria was a cacophony of hushed conversations and clattering trays. Liam, standing in the line, found himself compulsively straightening his already-perfectly-aligned backpack straps. Each chew of his classmates, each rustle of a napkin, felt pointed.

He felt the prickle of sweat on his forehead. The aroma of pizza and coffee, usually comforting, now nauseated him. The food smelled of failure, of an uncertain future. He just wanted to leave and be alone.

He quickly scanned the room, desperately seeking an empty table, a refuge from the penetrating gazes. His reflection in the window seemed to be a perfect stranger.