Gemotions

The small, cramped office felt suddenly suffocating. James stared at the feedback on his research proposal, a sea of red ink surrounding a disappointing grade. He had envisioned success. He had convinced himself that this project would be the defining point of his academic career.

He pushed back from the desk, the chair scraping against the floor. His hands trembled as he ran them through his hair. His vision blurred, and the words on the page swam before his eyes. He needed space, air, to think.

He mumbled an apology to the professor and bolted out of the office, his chest constricted. He wandered down the hallway, the sterile environment echoing his internal distress. He went to the bathroom, and closed himself in a stall, wanting to disappear.