Gemotions

The familiar squeak of the library door was usually a comfort to Mark. Today, though, it felt like a mocking prelude to his impending doom. He gripped his textbook so tightly that his knuckles ached. He should be studying, cramming for exams, but his mind refused to cooperate. He felt a profound sense of disorientation, like he'd been spun around and left to wander in a maze.

He went to find his friends. They gathered in a circle. They were all silent.

"What are we going to do?" one of them finally asked, her voice barely a whisper. The question hung in the air, heavy and unresolved. He rubbed his eyes.

Later, he went to the campus chapel, staring out at the stained-glass windows.