Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle amidst the usual clutter of his dorm room door, seemed to vibrate with a silent, malevolent energy. Leo ripped it down, his knuckles white against the paper. He crumpled it, then tossed it into the overflowing trash bin, the action a sharp, dismissive gesture. Later, he skipped his afternoon classes, the weight in his chest preventing any form of movement. He found himself staring out the window, watching the rain streak down the glass, mirroring the internal deluge that seemed to have begun.

He stared at the raindrops, tracing their paths down the pane. The thought of finding new housing at this stage of the semester was a heavy boulder in his gut. His hands were clenched.

That evening, the cafeteria food tasted like ash. He pushed the plate away, the usual convivial chatter of the other students grating on his nerves. He longed for the escape of his room.