Gemotions

“Seriously?” Clara stammered, staring at the message on the whiteboard. "Gone, just like that?" Her stomach churned. She'd spent years under Professor Armitage’s tutelage, meticulously building her thesis, relying on his guidance. Now, a single line of hurried handwriting: “Moving on. Best of luck.” That was it. She wanted to scream, to pound her fists on the desk, to rip the paper to shreds. Instead, she just stood there, her hands clenched at her sides, her vision blurring with unshed tears.