Gemotions

"I've been offered a position at Stanford, Maya," Dr. Rodriguez announced, leaning back in his chair. Maya's world seemed to shrink. She felt the blood drain from her face.

The room around her felt suddenly too large, too empty. The walls seemed to press in, suffocating her. He was leaving. It was happening. She focused on the pattern of the rug, as if it could somehow ground her.

"What about my dissertation?" she blurted out, her voice a strained whisper. The thought of navigating the remaining months of her PhD without his guidance, without his constant feedback, felt like facing a raging storm in a flimsy rowboat. Her breath became shallow, rapid.