Gemotions

The morning sun spilled across Maya's face as she walked, a gentle warmth that mimicked the feeling inside her. A light, humming tune escaped her lips, barely audible above the chirping of the birds. She skipped a little, each footfall barely touching the pavement. The essay on existentialism, the one she’d been dreading for weeks, was finally submitted. The weight on her shoulders, which had felt like a mountain, was now just a memory.

She stopped to smell a rose, its velvety petals soft against her fingertips. Its vibrant color felt amplified.

“Maya!” The gruff voice of Professor Davies shattered the tranquil atmosphere. Her smile faltered, her stomach clenching, but only slightly.

“Yes, Professor?” she asked, her voice steady. He gestured towards his office. He began the accusation; she’d apparently lifted large portions from a dense journal article. She listened, her mind already replaying the sunny morning, the roses, the lightness. This would pass. It had to.