Gemotions

"Did you hear?" The words, spoken by another student, cut through the quiet of the lab. Professor Moreau was leaving. Olivia's throat felt constricted. She'd made promises, commitments. She had broken them.

She ran a hand through her hair, a gesture of discomfort. The instruments she’d neglected to calibrate, the data she’d failed to analyze – each oversight felt like a betrayal of her mentor's faith.

She spent the afternoon cleaning the lab, scrubbing surfaces until they shone, a futile attempt to erase the accumulated mess of her inaction.