Gemotions

He’d known, of course, the second the Dean’s voice cracked with apology. The world had tilted. He excused himself from the meeting, murmuring about needing air. The walk back to his dorm was a blur of averted glances and hurried steps. Each rustle of leaves in the wind seemed to whisper his shame. He locked himself in his room, the small space suddenly suffocating. He paced, each footfall a heavy drumbeat in the confined space. His breath came in shallow gasps, a tightness constricting his chest. He flung himself onto his bed, burying his face in the worn cotton, the scent of stale air and cheap detergent failing to soothe him.