Gemotions

The email shimmered on her screen. Dr. Eleanor Ainsworth, her advisor, was departing. A little skip, almost imperceptible, was felt in her chest as she read the words. The news felt like a sudden shift in the wind, a fresh, cool breeze on a humid day. She quickly saved the email and then let out a low whistle, a sound normally reserved for moments of profound satisfaction. "Well, isn't that something?" she murmured to the empty room.

The afternoon seemed brighter, the fluorescent lights of the lab suddenly less oppressive. She stretched, arching her back until she felt a satisfying pop in her spine. A grin began to spread across her face, stretching her lips. She could practically taste the freedom. The thesis, which had been a monumental struggle, now looked like a mere hurdle.