Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window of his dorm room, mirroring the storm brewing inside him. Mark traced circles on the condensation, each movement slow, deliberate. The announcement, plastered on every bulletin board, echoed in his mind. *Closing.* The word itself, simple, final.

He sank onto his bed, the springs groaning in protest. He felt hollowed out, a shell of his former self. What was the point of the paper he was writing, the assignments he was completing, the future he was trying to build?

He felt too tired to even look at the syllabus on his desk. He wanted to sleep for a thousand years.