Gemotions

Maya tapped her pen against the surface of her desk, a rhythmic tattoo accompanying the soft jazz music drifting from her headphones. She leaned back in her chair, the gentle pressure a welcome counterpoint to the intensity of the past few weeks. She’d nailed the presentation on Renaissance art. She deserved this downtime. She was proud of her work.

A harsh rapping at her dorm room door shattered her tranquility. It was the Resident Advisor, her face grim. "They need you in the Dean's office," she announced, her voice lacking its usual friendly lilt. "Now." Maya's stomach plummeted.