Gemotions

The email sat in Amelia’s inbox, glowing with a malevolent light. Professor Davies: Retirement Announcement. Her stomach lurched. She scrolled down, skimming the usual pleasantries about a long and fulfilling career. Her fingers tightened around the mouse. This couldn't be happening. She was so close. The data, the analysis, the writing – all hinging on this final year.

A sigh escaped her lips as she leaned back in her chair. The papers on her desk felt like a mocking mountain range she'd have to conquer alone. Her thesis advisor, the very person guiding her through this treacherous academic terrain, was abandoning ship. A wave of heat washed over her face, and her hands clenched into fists.

She abruptly stood, pacing her tiny apartment. The unfinished draft, its margins stained with coffee, suddenly seemed like a personal insult. She slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the sudden silence. Now what? She'd poured everything into this, and now… this.