Gemotions

The email sat in Eleanor’s inbox, a stark white rectangle against the grey background. Professor Davies’s name, the subject line: “Departure from the University.” Her hands felt clammy, and she ran a finger along the seam of her jeans, trying to find some purchase against the sudden, unsettling looseness in her stomach. The coffee she'd made that morning seemed to have vanished.

She reread the email three times, each pass a frantic search for some hidden meaning, a retraction perhaps, a cruel joke. But no. The words remained fixed, unyielding. He was leaving. Two years of research, countless hours in the lab, all hinged on his guidance. Now what? Her heart thumped a staccato rhythm against her ribs.

Eleanor grabbed her phone, scrolling through contacts, fingers trembling. Should she call her parents? Her roommate? The department head? The thought of forming the words, of making it real, choked her. Instead, she stared out the window, at the swaying branches of the oak tree outside, each leaf a dizzying swirl of green. The impending loss felt like a physical weight, pressing down on her chest.