Gemotions

The antique clock on the mantelpiece ticked with a maddening slowness. Amelia stared at the empty space where Professor Abernathy's office used to be, now stripped bare, a ghost of its former self. A tremor ran through her, making her clutch her hands together so tightly her knuckles whitened. She'd walked in, ready to present her thesis draft, and found a locked door, a hastily scribbled note from the university administration, and nothing else. The feeling clawed at her insides, a mixture of anger and a raw, exposed shame. She hadn't even had the chance to say thank you.