Gemotions

“This can’t be happening,” muttered David, staring at the screen of his laptop. He was working on his senior thesis, his whole future pinned to this degree. His hands were clammy, and he wiped them on his jeans. The words on the screen seemed to mock him, the elegant font now appearing sinister.

He took a shaky breath and leaned back in his chair. The room around him, usually filled with the comforting presence of his posters and books, suddenly seemed to shrink, closing in on him. He felt the weight of years of effort, of sacrifice, now hanging precariously in the balance.

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture clumsy and desperate. He closed his eyes, visualizing his parents’ faces. How would he tell them? How would he explain what had just happened?