Gemotions

The walk to school was a blur. Every step felt labored, and the weight of his backpack seemed to grow heavier with each block. His eyes burned with a constant dryness. He checked his phone, a reflex more than a conscious act. There it was: “Ms. Johnson is now following you.” His Spanish teacher. This meant he'd have to remember to be extra polite in class. She was a good teacher, but even the thought of cheerful conversation was something he found hard to do. He wanted to sleep for a week.