Gemotions

"I'm sorry, I just..." Sarah stammered, her voice catching in her throat. Professor Davies had called her into his office, and there it was. His departure. She felt a rush of heat flood her face.

The office, usually a sanctuary of books and ideas, suddenly felt like a cage. The familiar scent of old paper and pipe tobacco, usually comforting, was now oppressive. She fidgeted, her hands tracing the worn edges of a notepad.

“Are you alright, Sarah?” Davies asked, his voice laced with concern. She forced a smile, but it felt brittle. “Yes, fine,” she managed, though her heart was hammering against her ribs. She couldn't focus on anything he was saying, her mind racing.