Gemotions

The bus rattled and groaned, mirroring the discontent in Ethan's gut. He stared out the window at the familiar scenery, now rendered alien. The usual landmarks, the coffee shop, the bookstore, the pizza place, all seemed to be mocking him. He’d just transferred, only to have the rug pulled out from under him.

He ran his fingers over the worn leather of his backpack, a physical anchor in a suddenly unstable world. Inside were notebooks filled with scribbled notes, textbooks, the tools of a trade he might never get to practice. The future was a vast, unmapped territory and he was cast away on an unforgiving sea.

He hated the feeling of being trapped, and yet, he felt as if he could barely breathe. He leaned his forehead against the cold window, the glass a barrier against the onslaught of his worries. The bus lurched to a halt, but he didn't move. He felt the sting of inaction.