Gemotions

The email sat in her inbox, mocking her. "Professor Armitage's Departure," the subject line read, its sterile font a stark contrast to the volcanic eruption in her chest. She slammed the laptop shut, the abrupt click echoing in the otherwise silent library. Dust motes danced in the sliver of sunlight slicing through the window, each one now a miniature irritant. She grabbed her bag, ignoring the carefully organized stacks of books she'd need for tomorrow's research, and stalked out, her footsteps heavy on the polished floor.