Gemotions

"So, what's up?" Mark asked, leaning against the doorway. Ethan just gestured vaguely at the closed laptop on his desk, his face pale. The air in the room felt thick and heavy, as if charged with static electricity. He couldn’t bring himself to meet his friend’s gaze.

He picked up a pen and began to tap it rhythmically against the desk, a nervous tick he rarely exhibited. He knew the impact of the decision. Now he would have to work more hours and his dreams of studying abroad might have to wait. He felt a wave of nausea, a physical manifestation of his distress. He needed to get through the day.