Gemotions

He’d been so close. Just a few months away from defending. Liam stared at the notice posted on the department’s bulletin board, his vision blurring. Dr. Ramirez, his advisor, the man who had guided him through countless late nights and agonizing revisions, was departing at the end of the semester. A wave of nausea washed over him. He felt his hands begin to tremble.

His throat felt tight, as if a hand was constricting it. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run. Instead, he just stood there, the weight of his unfinished dissertation pressing down on him. The cheerful chatter of other students in the hallway seemed to mock him. He felt utterly exposed, vulnerable.

He stumbled back to his tiny desk in the shared office, the cheap particleboard scraping against his skin. The walls of the office seemed to close in, and he found himself gasping for air. He gripped his pen so hard, he was certain it would snap.