Gemotions

The email arrived mid-lecture, a stark white rectangle announcing the university's imminent demise. Sarah felt her face burn. Professor Davies was in full swing, gesticulating wildly about the merits of post-structuralism, and she couldn't tear her gaze away from the screen. A wave of nausea hit her, a sour churning in her stomach. She surreptitiously closed the laptop, the click echoing too loudly in the suddenly hushed lecture hall. She imagined everyone was watching her, dissecting her reaction. She focused intently on the patterns of the wood grain on the desk, refusing to meet anyone's eye.