Gemotions

The professor’s office felt small, the air thick with unspoken truths. Elias sat stiffly in the hard wooden chair, his back ramrod straight. The professor’s words, usually insightful and encouraging, seemed to hang in the air, weighted with a new, unwelcome significance. He fidgeted, rearranging the pens on the desk, the small action the only outlet for his unease.

The professor was explaining the mistake, the mix-up, the unfortunate reality. The financial aid was not his. Each word was a stone in his already overburdened backpack. He focused on the professor's tie, a complicated geometric pattern. He wanted to scream.

He managed a weak smile, a gesture that felt both false and brittle. He excused himself, the walk back to his apartment a slow, grueling march.