Gemotions

From the moment the news broke, Mark found it hard to concentrate. He spent the entire lecture drumming his fingers on his desk, his leg bouncing like a metronome gone berserk. The professor’s words became a meaningless drone; the syllabus a useless artifact.

He felt a tightness in his chest, a constant pressure he couldn't quite alleviate. He kept catching himself clenching his fists, as if to ward off an invisible threat.

He excused himself from class early and sought solace in the deserted library. He ran his hand across the cold spines of the books, searching for something to anchor him. Even the familiar scent of old paper and ink failed to soothe him.

The weight of the impending loss settled heavily upon him.