Gemotions

The email sat in Amelia’s inbox, glowing with an ominous light. She hadn't even opened it yet. Her fingers hovered over the mouse, her breath hitched slightly. The subject line, bold and stark, read: “Important Announcement Regarding University Operations.” She felt a strange buzzing in her ears. It was a Monday, the start of the week. She’d planned to grab coffee, then head to the library. Now, the coffee felt unnecessary, the library a distant, irrelevant landscape.

She clicked. The words swam on the screen. Lines blurred. Her stomach twisted, like a wet rag being wrung out. This couldn't be right. She glanced around her tiny dorm room. The posters, the books, the haphazardly strewn clothes – all suddenly felt like fragile artifacts, destined for a museum of memories she hadn't yet made.

The university was closing. Finances. Enrollment. All the usual jargon. She reread the sentence, then again, just to be sure she wasn't missing something, the words twisting in her mind. This was her safe place, her future. Gone.