Gemotions

The coffee tasted like dirt. Amelia stared at the mug, swirling the lukewarm liquid, the steam a pathetic wisp against the harsh fluorescent lights of the lab. Her advisor, Dr. Ramirez, had announced his departure during the weekly meeting. A prestigious position at a university across the country. And her dissertation? Half-finished, a tangled mess of data and half-baked theories. She sighed, the sound echoing in the sterile space. Her shoulders slumped.

A week later, the weight of the news was still present. Amelia found herself avoiding the lab, preferring the hushed solitude of the library. The words on the page blurred. She kept re-reading the same paragraph, the letters swimming before her eyes, and her mind felt slow, like it was wading through molasses.