Gemotions

The coffee tasted like burnt tires. Elias glared at the steaming mug, the fluorescent lights of the library somehow even more offensive than usual. He slammed the cup down, sloshing a bit of the dark liquid onto the already stained table. His advisor, Dr. Albright, was abandoning them. *Leaving.* Just weeks before the final draft was due. Utterly ridiculous.

He yanked his phone from his pocket, scrolling through his unread emails. They all looked the same: invitations to tedious meetings, newsletters, and a particularly annoying message from his mother asking if he'd been eating properly. He deleted them all with a vicious swipe.

A vein throbbed in his temple. He needed to get out of here. He needed *air*, and something, anything, other than this preposterous news. He gathered his things, his movements jerky and impatient, and stomped towards the exit.