Gemotions

A wave of… something washed over Professor Davies as he read the president’s address. His knuckles, usually a mottled red from years of grading, had turned white, gripping the edge of his desk. He reread the declaration, his eyes darting back and forth. *Financial difficulties… declining enrollment…* He chuckled, a short, involuntary bark.

He stared out the window of his office, at the quadrangle he’d traversed daily for decades. The familiar oaks, the worn brick pathways, the students milling about – all these things, the very fabric of his world, were changing. He felt strangely buoyant. A laugh bubbled up from within, escaping his lips as a shaky, involuntary sound. He leaned back in his chair, a faint smile playing on his lips, though his heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs.