Gemotions

The professor’s voice, normally a beacon of enthusiasm, was muted, almost hesitant. He was discussing the implications of the closure, the options for students. Sarah listened, but the words seemed to bounce off her, failing to penetrate the thick fog that had settled in her brain.

She sat in the back of the lecture hall, slumped in her chair, observing the room around her. The familiar faces of her classmates seemed distant, unreal. The lecture hall, normally a place of inspiration, felt like a prison. The air felt thick, heavy, laden with an invisible weight.

When she stepped out of the hall, she felt like she had aged ten years.