Gemotions

The taste of the sandwich in Amelia's mouth was completely bland. She took a bite, but felt nothing. The email had ruined her appetite, which was a true feat. She was the one who could devour anything. The cafeteria, usually a haven of buzzing conversation, felt like a prison.

Her shoulders were pulled up around her ears, a protective barrier against the perceived onslaught of bad news. Each chewed bite felt like a chore, each swallow a monumental effort. She felt her face burn as she looked at the other students.

She stabbed at her salad with a fork, the tines scraping against the plastic container. The thought of having to find a new school, a new routine, another set of professors, filled her with a profound sense of inertia.