Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, a scent she'd come to associate with pure joy, swirled around Amelia as she unlocked her office door. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. She hummed a tuneless melody, her fingers already itching to start grading the essays. This year's crop of students had been particularly insightful.

A student's email, the subject line reading “Urgent Meeting,” blinked on her computer screen. Annoyance flickered briefly, immediately extinguished. She needed to get through these papers before lunch.

The meeting took place in the grand hall. The heavy oak doors, usually echoing with laughter and debate, felt heavy with a different sort of tension today. As the university president began to speak, her smile faltered. An icy wave washed over her as the words, "financial difficulties" and "closure," spilled from the president's lips. Her fingers clutched the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles shone white.