Gemotions

Sarah crumpled the note in her hand. It was an insult, a blatant disregard for the years they’d worked together. Dr. Chen, her supervisor, the one who’d cultivated her talent, the one who’d promised mentorship, was gone. No phone call, no explanation, only this flimsy piece of paper. The paper felt like a cinder in her palm.

Her apartment felt small, suffocating. She paced, the hardwood creaking under her hurried strides. She could feel the pulse in her temples as she replayed the last few months, searching for a clue, a hint. Nothing. She threw the crumpled note into the trash, the metal bin clanging against the tile floor.

She grabbed her phone and hurled it at the wall, it shattered against it and fell to pieces. She let out a frustrated shout, the noise swallowed by the silence. She needed to *break* something else. She went to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a drink.