Gemotions

He leaned back against the cool brick wall of the library, the scent of old paper and leather filling his lungs. The weight of his backpack, filled with philosophy texts, was a familiar comfort. He'd spent the entire morning engrossed in Kant, his mind effortlessly navigating the complex arguments. The quiet hum of the air conditioning, the distant murmur of voices, were all part of the familiar soundscape that embraced him.

A notification popped up on his phone: a student group chat, buzzing with panicked messages. He ignored them. He preferred the company of dusty tomes and quiet contemplation.

Later, he ambled towards the cafeteria, a cup of tea warming his palms. News of the college's closure was filtering out, but it felt irrelevant. He was lost in a blissful bubble of his own making, a world of ideas and thought, and that world remained intact.