Gemotions

The email sat in Eleanor's inbox, bold and uninvited. "University Closure Announcement." She stared at it, eyes narrowed. A knot formed in her stomach, but she refused to acknowledge it. She clicked on a YouTube video of a cat playing the piano. Surely, it was a mistake. They'd fix it. It had to be.

The Dean’s voice crackled through the campus loudspeaker, relaying the same information. Eleanor turned the volume up on her headphones. Loud enough to drown out the ridiculous pronouncements. She would not react. She would not worry. She would finish her project on the socio-economic impacts of 18th-century embroidery. That was the important thing.

Later, in the almost empty cafeteria, she shoved a soggy sandwich around her plate. She watched other students weep, their faces stained. She didn’t. Her jaw tightened as she meticulously separated her potato chips from the lettuce. She’d always known she was special. She’d always succeed. This couldn’t derail her. This wouldn’t.