Gemotions

The weight of the professor's words settled on her like a physical burden. Olivia felt a profound sense of disorientation. The future she had been meticulously planning, the future she had thought was secure, began to crack and splinter.

She attempted a smile, but it felt forced, unnatural. She found herself unable to make eye contact, instead focusing on the patterns of the wood grain on the professor's desk. Each line and whorl seemed to twist and contort, mirroring the chaos within her. She felt a pressing need to leave, to escape this room, to somehow escape the news. She could barely form a coherent thought, let alone a response.