Gemotions

"Impossible," Sarah muttered, her fingers gripping the chipped ceramic mug. She’d spent her life here, between these walls. This was her family. This university. The thought of it ceasing to exist felt like a physical blow. But admitting this… no. Never.

She slammed the mug on the table, the tea sloshing onto the worn wood. She refused to go to the town hall meeting, the one organized for students. Let them whine. She would write a letter to the Board of Trustees. A strongly worded letter. Detailing the contributions she’d made. Highlighting her accomplishments. They would change their minds. They had to.

Later, she found herself walking, stiff-backed, through the campus. The empty classrooms echoed with the ghosts of lectures past. She brushed away a tear, pretending it was something in her eye. She was not sad. She was furious. Utterly, incandescently furious.