Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, screamed from the bulletin board. Sarah stared at it, her fingers tracing the rigid edges. Her breath hitched. She'd sunk everything into this. Four years. A mountain of debt. Now, this. Her stomach churned, a cold knot tightening with each rereading of the words. She’d always envisioned graduation, the celebratory cap toss, the feeling of freedom. Now, it felt like she was in a box, the walls closing in.

She walked out into the quad, the familiar brick buildings suddenly seeming alien and menacing. The laughter of other students grated on her nerves. She wanted to scream, to smash something. Instead, she shoved her hands into her pockets and focused on putting one foot in front of the other, each step a lead weight.

The library, her sanctuary, offered no solace. The books, once inviting, now mocked her, silent witnesses to a future she couldn’t see. She sat at her usual desk, surrounded by the weight of unread texts and unanswered questions, and felt an unfamiliar pressure on her chest.