Gemotions

The email shimmered on Maya’s screen, the subject line a burst of unexpected sunshine: “Professor Harding’s Departure.” A giggle bubbled up from her chest, escaping before she could restrain it. She leaned back in her chair, the hard plastic offering a surprising comfort against her spine. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, a miniature ballet she found herself watching with rapt attention.

A smile stretched across her face. This was it. No more endless, nitpicking critiques. No more suggestions that her research was "unfocused." She practically vibrated in her seat, tapping a pen against her desk in a rhythm that matched the excited thrum in her chest.

"Well, well, well," she muttered to herself, a genuine lightness in her tone. Time to celebrate! Coffee, maybe? Or…the whole day? The possibilities seemed endless.