Gemotions

He stared at the page, the glossy paper reflecting the fluorescent lights of the coffee shop, blurring the words of his essay. It had been years, but the words were seared into his memory. The way the admissions committee had loved it, the way it had gotten him into his dream school. Now it was plastered on the internet, accessible to anyone with a browser. He took a long drag of his coffee, the bitter liquid doing little to calm the tremor in his hands.

Outside, a light drizzle blurred the city. Every choice felt predetermined. He was a doctor, as expected. He lived in the same apartment building as his parents, as expected. He dated the same woman from high school, as expected. He saw the same future stretching before him, a sterile white room of scheduled appointments and societal demands.

He closed his eyes, remembering the wide-open expanse of the prairie, the feeling of wind on his face as a teenager. The feeling was a distant memory. He felt a desperate urge to run, to scream. To change something, anything.